


Short Trips

by MamzelleSouris



Series: Growing up Decepticon [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Art, Backstory, Bullying, Child Soldiers, Explosions, Family Fluff, Flying, Food Fight, Gen, Gift Giving, Glitter, Holidays, Implied/ Referenced Slavery, Impulsive Skywarp, Injury, Introspection, Inventors, Mad Scientists, Making treats, Medical Experimentation, Medication, Mother's Day, Nightmares, OOpS!, Parties & celebrations, Playing chase, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Reasonably sane scientists, Rescue, Science, Sickfic, Skywarp loves Rust Sticks, Sort Of, Team as Family, Temper Tantrums, Torture, Touch-Starved, Touching, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wings, hyperactive, parole, sugar rush - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:22:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 38,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamzelleSouris/pseuds/MamzelleSouris
Summary: What if the seekers who fought for the Decepticons were upgraded far too young. What would the Autobots do when they won the war and found out what happened? How do you help a group of angry, frightened mechs come to terms with everything they know being wrong?This is a collection of stories about that. Some will be light and fluffy, some will be a bit angsty, some will be a lot angsty.Set in my Growing Up Decepticon AU





	1. Virus

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be updated as and when. I'm working on lots of different things, either stories that flesh out the AU or scenes which didn't fit into Another Deception.
> 
> First up - Skywarp has a virus.
> 
> Beautifully beta'd by CheerfullyMorbid.

The churn of Skywarp’s vents dumping heat from his overclocked internals clued Ironhide to something being wrong before he saw the seeker. Skywarp emerged from his room and flopped listlessly on the couch.

“Somethin’ wrong kiddo?” Ironhide asked, cocking his helm and watching the young seeker carefully.

“‘M fine.” Skywarp’s vocaliser spat static and he re-set it with an audible click. “Jus’ tired.” Ironhide rested a servo on the mech’s shoulder, giving a little hum of concern as he felt how much heat was being expelled.

“Ya sure? Ya feel a bit warm ta me.”

“‘M fine.” Skywarp repeated a little louder, vocaliser crackling again.

“Hmmm.” Ironhide made a flat, disbelieving noise. The elevated core temperature, staticky vocaliser, wince of pain when he had spoken a bit too loudly, and now he looked, slightly dimmed optics all suggested a virus of some kind. He tried to think where the seeker could have picked it up.

::Jazz, have you had Skywarp hooking up to a console recently?:: There was a pause as the saboteur formulated a reply.

::Yes, last cycle. He downloaded some new maps to be corrected. Why?::

::I think he has a virus. You might want Red to check the system out.:: Rogue code was rare. Teletraan’s firewalls and anti-virus usually weeded out anything harmful, but the odd string sometimes got through.

::I’ll get him to check it out. Is he ok?::

::He’s a bit hot, but hopefully we’ve spotted it before he feels worse.::

::I’ll shift the rota around then and give him the next couple of cycles off.::

::Thanks Jazz. I’ll get him to medbay:: Ironhide looked back at Skywarp. The young seeker was pretending to read a data pad. Ironhide knew he was pretending because the pad contained a copy of the Autobot code as annotated by Ultra Magnus, and only the author could read it for more than a click at a time. Skywarp was pretending that he wasn’t feeling unwell.

“Ya want some fuel?” Ironhide offered. Fuel could be a blessing or a curse when a mech had a virus. The frame would either take on board as much as possible or register it as foreign matter and trigger a purge.

Skywarp shook his helm. Ironhide suspected his tank was feeling delicate as well, but he obviously didn’t want to show weakness to an Autobot. Ironhide was not about to allow any silly Decepticon ideas about not showing he was unwell.

“Okay, we’re goin’ ta th’medbay.” Skywarp gave him a look of betrayal, which Ironhide ignored. “Ah think ya caught a virus somewhere an’ ah want a medic ta check ya over.”

“‘M fine.” Skywarp insisted. “‘M jus’ tired.”

“Humour me.” Skywarp pouted, expression mulish. “Come on, let’s go.” Skywarp got to his peds reluctantly. He swayed slightly, gyro’s obviously out of alignment. He caught the back of the chair to steady himself.

Ironhide shepherded him out of the door. Skywarp dragged his peds, but didn’t refuse to move, or do anything to aggravate his caretaker.Ironhide was glad of that. He baulked slightly at the medbay door, but Ironhide propelled him through with a servo on his shoulder. The seeker was still dumping heat from his vents, and his plating was hot to the touch.

First Aid, Ratchet, and Hoist were all in the medbay. Hoist had a miserable-looking Ramjet with him.

“Looks like you are not the only sufferer,” First Aid commented, giving Ramjet a quick pat on the shoulder as he passed. Ramjet shrugged pettishly, optics dim.

“Virus?” First Aid asked as he came over to them. “I can feel how hot you are from here.” He signalled to Hoist, who ambled over. Skywarp shifted nervously. Ratchet looked over at them, but obviously decided he didn’t want to crowd the young mech. He seemed to be preparing some filtered energon, probably for Ramjet.

“You don’t look so good,” Hoist remarked, putting a servo on Skywarp’s shoulder. Skywarp shied away, but overbalanced, throwing a servo out to catch himself. Ironhide put his own servo out, helping the young seeker upright again. “Can I scan you?” Hoist asked gently. Skywarp tucked his servos in to his chest, but Ironhide tugged at his wrist.

“Don’t be silly, Sky.” The young mech reluctantly uncurled, presenting his wrist port to the medic.

“You’re not looking too good.” Hoist stroked the port cover but didn’t try to open it. “Does it hurt?” Skywarp didn’t move, or say anything as the port cover popped open, and Hoist carefully plugged in. The medic hummed in interest as the data from Skywarp’s systems downloaded. “Oh yes, you definitely have a virus. Same code string as Ramjet too.” He unplugged the data cable. “You must feel dreadful.” Skywarp hunched over miserably. “Wheeljack is just coding an anti-virus.”

“No!” Skywarp snapped shaking his helm. “Don’ want it.”

“You will need it,” Hoist told him, running a cool servo across his wing. “Your own anti-virus and firewalls can't deal with it.”

“No!”

“Sky…” Ironhide tried to sooth him.

“No!”

“Let him have his own way,” Ratchet advised, handing Ramjet a cube of filtered energon. “You drink that slowly.”

:: You sure about that Ratchet?:: Ironhide asked. He eyed the uncomfortable seeker huddled into an unhappy ball on the medberth.

:: It won't be pleasant for him. His tactile sensors are likely to start misfiring, he is going to be miserable.::

:: You could persuade him to get the anti-virus. I don't want him to be ill.::

:: It won’t be fun. But I hope he’ll be more receptive to the idea of getting an anti-virus download, and some decent spec firewalls, after a night feeling sorry for himself.::

:: Great!.:: Ironhide stroked Skywarp's helm. “Can we get some filtered energon Ratch’?” Skywarp gave a disgusted little groan. “Ya don’ want ta get th’ download, ya get th’ tasteless energon kiddo. Ah don’want ya purgin’ 'cos ya tanks’re delicate.”

Skywarp pouted, unhappy with the situation.

“I’ve started filtering it for you,” Ratchet promised. “I’ll grab you a cooling pad too.” He started digging through a cupboard as he spoke, pulling a flat, gel filled pad from it. “ There you go. Not much else I can do without giving you the anti-virus.” He handed it, and two cubes of energon to Ironhide.

“Come on then kiddo.” Ironhide put the cubes and pad in his subspace, and helped Skywarp from the berth. “Let's get back.” Skywarp swayed on his peds, and Ironhide put a supporting arm around him.

Skywarp's gyros were thrown totally out of sync by the virus, and he wobbled back to their quarters, vents rattling. Ironhide supported him back to his berth, laying him down and tucking the cooling pad under his helm.

“Ya want th’ energon now or in a bit?” The big Autobot asked, stroking his wing again.

“'N a bit.” Skywarp admitted. “'M tired.”

“Okay, kiddo.” Ironhide leant forward and nuzzled his helm affectionately. “Ah’m sorry ya not feelin’ good. Ya try’n recharge.”

“'K.” Skywarp wiggled a little, trying to get comfortable and offlined his optics. Ironhide gave his wing a final stroke and left, turning the lights out as he went.

Ironhide slumped into his favourite chair with a groan. He understood Ratchet's reasons for not trying to pressure Skywarp to have the anti-virus download, but he didn't much like it. The seeker was going to be utterly miserable for a cycle. He had dealt with mechs suffering from viruses before.

As he predicted, within the jour there was a thump and whimper to tell him Skywarp had tried to get up and fallen. He found the young mech curled into a ball on the floor, subvocal whimpers of discomfort leaving his vocaliser. Ironhide helped him back to the berth, frowning at the seeker's unhappy flinch from noise, light, and contact. He managed to get Skywarp to take one of the cubes and settle back down before heading back out to grab some energon for himself.

Skywarp was dozing fitfully when Ironhide came to check on him again, shifting restlessly on the berth, clearly uncomfortable. The cooling pad had slipped, so Ironhide slid it back under the dark helm. Dull garnet optics peered up at him before Skywarp clearly decided he wasn't a threat and offlined them again. Ironhide headed back for the main room, leaving Skywarp's door open so he could hear any issues.

::How is Skywarp looking?:: Ratchet's comm surprised the weapons specialist. Fortunately it was an easy question to answer.

::Hot, restless and miserable.:: It frustrated Ironhide that he couldn't help the young mech, but Skywarp had made his choice. ::He seems to be recharging. He woke up slightly when I checked him a click ago, but he offlined his optics again when he saw it was me.::

::Poor kid.:: Ironhide couldn't tell how sympathetic the medic was being. ::I’ve got Thrust down with it as well, and a few other 'cons plus one of the neutrals. We’re mandating a full update of everyone's firewalls, 'bot, 'con and neutral, starting next cycle. Under military law, so it is going to go down well.::

A firewall update would be a big job, even with the help of the handful of neutral medics. Ratchet would be hunting down the more uncooperative patients for cycles. Ironhide acknowledged the scheduling ping warning him that he and Skywarp would need to attend the medbay early next cycle.

:: Good luck with that!::

:: Thanks! I might be calling on your assistance if I encounter any problems.:: Meaning Ratchet would need him to drag the more difficult Autobots into medbay. He mentally ran through the probable list, which included Jazz, Mirage and Cliffjumper.

:: I'll be ready.:: Ratchet cut the connection, and Ironhide chuckled. The medic would be entertainingly grumpy for a few cycles. There was an unhappy whimper from Skywarp's room and he went back in to sooth the fractious seeker.


	2. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Sunstorm met his trine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting for November. It is grey, miserable and cold out there so have some angst! 
> 
> I re-read this and it made me cry. 
> 
> In AD Acid Storm mentions he regrets how cruel he was to Sunstorm because they thought he was a grounder. This is that story.
> 
> WARNING - Torture, abuse, dangerous assumptions.  
Sunstorm is effectively a baby, albeit one who appears to be an adult. He has no frame of reference for anything and is trying to navigate a significantly hostile environment. Everyone thinks he is an adult, and he is wildly out of his depth. It is mental abuse of a very young child in an adult frame by people who have no reason to believe he is other than he seems.  
Consider your personal taste before reading!
> 
> Thanks to CheerfullyMorbid for the Beta.

Neither Acid Storm nor Icestorm had ever seen the golden seeker before. As commander of the seekers on Cybertron, and air commander of the Decepticons while Starscream (and the rest of high command) were 'missing in action’, this worried Acid Storm.

Shockwave was holding the mech by the shoulder. Not cruelly, but like a mech holding a data pad or a tool, touch impersonal. The mech didn't appear to mind, but his field was tucked close to his armour. His optics were curious, despite the blank expression on his faceplates.

Shockwave walked him up to the two seekers where they sat in the rec room and pushed him forward.

“This is your new trine mate,” he announced. “See to it he receives his allotted ration and understands his duties as a soldier in the mighty Decepticon Empire.” Icestorm and Acid Storm just stared at the purple scientist. “All hail Megatron.”

Acid Storm made a strangled noise at the back of his intake, but Shockwave walked away and they were left with the strange seeker. The mech smiled shyly, but neither smiled back so he schooled his expression back to impassivity. Acid Storm looked him over. 

“Name?” he barked. The golden mech jumped, startled, and Acid Storm took a moment of vicious pleasure in the fact. Icestorm didn't say anything, but gave his trine mate a displeased ping across the bond. 

“Um... Sunstorm,” the mech said. His voice was slightly horse, as if he hadn't used it much recently. Acid Storm glowered at him, but he didn't say anything else.

“Well... Sunstorm… you clearly have no idea how to address your superior officers. You will call me 'sir’ and will wait until I address you before speaking. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

::Where the frag has he come from?!:: Icestorm asked. ::I don't recognise him, and we haven't had any neutrals come back for vorns.::

::I’m more concerned with what we do with him. Fragging Shockwave thinks a trine is just three seekers.::

“Where are you from?” Icestorm asked him, curiously. The golden seeker looked at him, bewildered.

“I came from Shockwave's lab, sir,” he said eventually. Acid Storm was unable to hide his expression.

::Fraggit. I think he’s a grounder. Primus! Shockwave is obviously shoving them into seeker frames.::

:: I doubt he can even fly. He has a Vosian name though,:: Icestorm commented, field equally displeased. The golden mech figited awkwardly under their stares. “Keep still!” Icestorm barked, irritated by the restless movement. The mech stiffened. :: He is obedient, at least.::

::That is not much comfort.:: Acid Storm circled their newest recruit who, seemed to have enough intelligence to remain at attention. “Despite what Shockwave said, we will not take an unknown mech into our trine.” Acid Storm was always fair, and to give this mech the impression that he had been promoted to their elite trine would just cause problems. “You can consider yourself an auxiliary to the Decepticon air command until you receive promotion on your own merits.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. You may use the air barracks here on your down time, and you will report for the third shift this cycle.” That would give the mech four jours to find a berth and get his bearings before reporting for duty. The two seekers turned and left, leaving the golden mech in the rec room alone.

********************************

Sunstorm relaxed a bit and glanced around. He didn't know who the green and blue seekers were, but they were obviously important. The green one had said he could use the air barracks, but he didn't know whether this room was the whole place or not. There was an energon dispenser, but no berths. He wasn't sure how to get energon from the dispenser, but he still had a quarter of a tank left. Shockwave usually refueled him when he was at five percent, so maybe these mechs would be the same.

He hadn't been told to stay, so he went to the door and looked out. His meger internal maps told him that this was the corridor that Shockwave had hustled him down, and he remembered some more doors further up. He wasn't really sure how to use his mapping software, but he added the map to his short term memory cache, hoping to work it out.

Sure enough, there were two doors at the top of the corridor. The first door had a passcode, and Sunstorm knew well enough not to touch it. He had made that mistake once in the lab and Shockwave had chained him to the berth for five cycles. That was before the scientist had cleared out the storage room by his lab to keep him in.

The other door opened when he approached, which was a surprise. The room beyond was full of berths. He wondered if it was a store room, but some berths were hidden by folding screens. There was no-one else around, so he crept to the closest screen and peered around it. The berth was three pushed together, covered with bulging sacks and a thermal blanket. Sunstorm recognised it because Shockwave would cover him with one when the scientist was working on his spark and didn't want to go to the trouble of closing his chestplates.

The berth had no restraints, which was odd. The berth Shockwave had given him in the tiny storage room had restraints. He tentatively touched one of the lumpy sacks, surprised to find it soft. The berth itself seemed to be padded too. Sunstorm wondered if the other berths were this comfortable. 

He looked around. None of the other berths had any padding, or sacks, which was a shame. Sunstorm thought that this berth probably belonged to someone. There were some data pads on the shelf, and a tin on top of the little storage unit.

The other screened berths were the same. Padded and comfortable and surrounded by other mech’s things. Experience had taught him not to touch Shockwave's tools, and he expected whoevers’ berths these were would be the same.

He had his own personal items tucked in his subspace. The Covenant and the Commentaries were a comforting weight and he was so glad he had picked them up when his subspace had been unlocked. He had the broken data crystal he had found too. He liked to pretend it contained something special. Secret orders from Megatron, perhaps. He didn't really know who Megatron was, but Shockwave had mentioned him sometimes so Sunstorm thought he must be important. Shockwave said 'all hail Megatron’ a lot too.

There were lots of berths here and Sunstorm suspected that this was where he was supposed to recharge. The idea of recharging with other mechs made his spark flutter. He found the idea of company oddly exciting. He had only seen the two seekers that Shockwave had introduced him to, but there must be more on the base.

No one had told him which berth to take, which was also rather exciting. He had never had so much choice. Sunstorm gave the spare berths a careful consideration. The idea of being too close to the door didn't appeal, and he wasn't sure about being that close to the other seekers. There was a berth in the centre back row which seemed like a good one. He crossed to it. There was a little locker by the berth and Sunstorm took a look inside.

It was empty, as was the shelf above the berth. He took his data pads out of his subspace, relieved that Shockwave had actually shown him how, and proudly put them on the shelf. The data crystal was hidden in the locker.

The next thing was to figure out where he was supposed to report to, and when. He had learned how to tell the time after a bit of trial and error. His chronometer worked perfectly, Shockwave would not have allowed anything else. He knew when the first and second shifts started and ended as well and he had just over three jours.

Where he was supposed to report to was a more difficult matter. The green seeker hadn't told him. Medics reported to Shockwave at the start of a shift, so the green seeker must be somewhere similar.

He had three jours to find it. He offered a short prayer to Primus for guidance. The idea of being told to do something rather than sitting in a locked room waiting for Shockwave was at once exciting and terrifying. He had no idea what would be expected of him.

Mindful that he needed to find where he was supposed to report to first, he headed back into the corridor. He looked back in the rec room, but it was still empty, so he headed down the corridor in the direction he had not been before.

There were more doors, some of which opened when he stood in front of them and some of which didn't. One led to a small medbay and two opened to reveal storage rooms, while a fourth was the door to the biggest wash racks he had ever seen. Granted, he had only ever been in the tiny shower attached to Shockwave's lab, but this space had room for at least six seekers.

None of the rooms he could access seemed to be somewhere he would report to, so he turned his attention to the doors which didn't open. One had a discrete plate which said 'air commander’. The green seeker had said he was part of the air command so this must be where he needed to report to.

******************************

“Where is he?” Acid Storm’s wings were held high and threatening. Icestorm almost pitied the new recruit, as his trine leader was not in the mood to be forgiving. They were only five clicks into the third shift, but he had not arrived at the control center for his orders. Acid Storm was obviously itching to head out on patrol. Icestorm pulled up the base security feed and found the footage of the golden mech loitering in a corridor.

“He's outside the air commander’s office.” Acid Storm made an infuriated noise.

“What the frag is he doing there?” The green seeker stalked out of the room muttering curses. Icestorm kept his optics on the monitor. There was no sound, but he could see the gold mechs wings droop when Acid Storm reached him and guessed his trine leader's foul temper had found an outlet. Icestorm watched his trine leader grab the top edge of one golden wing and pull the new recruit down the corridor after him.

“This is where you report to and that…” Acid Storm snarled as he towed Sunstorm into the control centre, shoving him in the direction of Shockwave's task list. “Is what you will be doing for the next eight jours.” He stormed out, ignoring the lost look on the gold mech's faceplates.

Icestorm quashed his guilt, turning back to the monitor, scrolling through the security feeds. From the corner of his optic he saw Sunstorm pick up the data pad and look at it.

“You only have eight jours.” He pointed out mildly. Sunstorm looked at him and back down at the data pad. Icestorm knew that the list of tasks was far longer than the allotted time, but he wanted to see what the mech would do. A mech willing to work hard would win more favour with Acid Storm. He decided to offer some advice. “The most important tasks are at the top of the list.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sunstorm scuttled out of the room, clutching the pad, and Icestorm opted to keep an optic on him. Shockwave might trust him, but Icestorm did not.

Three jours later Icestorm was shaking his helm at the incompetence of the other mech. He seemed incapable of working in a structured way, and seemed to have no idea where he was or what he was doing half the time. It looked like he would only be good for cleaning tasks because he appeared to have no understanding of basic maintenance. Icestorm sent an update to the list, pushing scrubbing and rust-proofing the external walls to the top of the list. The few grounders currently out of stasis could pick up the other tasks.

He watched the golden seeker fumble with the pad and frown down at it. Scrubbing rust was usually a punishment, but the mechs on base at the moment had avoided being assigned the duty since the previous acid rain shower eight cycles ago. Sunstorm ambled off, ignoring the closest storage rooms in favour of the one in the air barracks. Icestorm clicked disapprovingly. Such laziness did not bode well for the other mech.

****************************************

Sunstorm trudged wearily back to the storage rooms he had found when he had been exploring. He was grateful to see a task on the list that he could do. Shockwave had once made one of the medics scour some tools free of rust, and he had been able to watch the mech working from the medberth so he thought he knew what tools and chemicals he needed.

Trying to work through the list had worried him. It noted what task needed doing, and where, but didn't say how, or how to get there. Without a map or any instructions he was lost. The latest order said he needed to be outside, which was... daunting. His language programming helpfully defined outside for him, but he had no idea how to get out, or even what he would find there.

****************************************

Icestorm was unimpressed. Sunstorm had been wandering for half a jour and was walking down the control corridor for the second time. The blue seeker looked at the monitor again and stalked out of the room to confront the golden mech.

“What the frag do you think you are doing?” He knew he sounded angry, but this was beyond a joke. “There is the door. Get out there and get to work!” He helpfully pinged his access code to the lock and the door opened. “Acid Storm will have you in the brig if you carry on like this!”

“I…”

“I don't care. GO!” He shouted the last word, and the other seeker scampered to the door, field fearful. Icestorm quashed any residual guilt he felt. The mech needed to understand that this was an army, not whatever civilian job he had done before the war. Acid Storm had felt his irritation and sent a query across the trine bond. :: It's just our new recruit,:: he explained, sending across a wave of apology. :: He has successfully wasted half a shift.::

:: Typical!:: Acid Storm sent his own irritation across the bond. :: Well, he can just do extra to make up the time then.::

Icestorm snorted. That was certainly fair. He settled back at the monitor bank scanning them again, but keeping one camera trained on Sunstorm. The fool hadn't seen fit to equip his arm mounted cannons. The base was relatively safe, but the regulations stipulated that mechs should have their weapons with them at all times when outside the walls. The regulations said a lot of things, but that one was just common sense. 

Icestorm sighed. It wouldn't be much of a loss to the faction if this idiot took a stray Autobot bullet in the spark, but it would almost certainly cause no end of problems with Shockwave. He pinged the console, intending to find Sunstorm's comm frequency, but it wasn't registered. He growled, opening a new file to begin writing a formal complaint against the mech.

************************************

Sunstorm breathed a little sigh of relief when he saw the time on his chronometer showed that his shift had ended. He felt curiously demoralised, but didn't really understand why. He had been looking forward to getting out of Shockwave's lab, and probably had unrealistic expectations of how other mechs behaved.

The sound of thrusters behind him made him turn, and the green seeker landed, stalking forward to meet him. He looked angry and Sunstorm quailed. Angry mechs usually meant pain.

“What the frag do you think you are doing?” His tone was low and furious. “Why is your comm not synced to the main computer? And where are your weapons?” He looked around at the walls. “Is this ALL you’ve done?”

Sunstorm's wings dropped, he had been feeling quite pleased with the amount of work he had done. He had worked a quarter of the way around the building from the ground up as high as he could reach. He thought he had done a lot, but the green seeker was looking at him like he had done nothing.

“Why didn't you start from the top?”

“Umm... I did.” The other mech delivered a stinging slap to his wing and he winced.

“You have not! You’ve done nothing above ground level! You have thrusters - use them!”

“I... I can't... I.. Shockwave didn't... didn't…” he stuttered to a halt under the green seeker's disgusted look. “I'm sorry.”

“You should have told me.” The mech's tone was impatient. “I was going to make you do an extra half shift as punishment now, but you can report back to Shockwave and advise him that I expect you to have you thrusters activated.” Sunstorm’s wings drooped again. He did not want to submit to Shockwave any more. The other seeker clearly caught his reluctance, because his expression turned nasty. “I’d go now, if I were you. You should be able to catch him.”

*************************************************************

Sunstorm limped back to the air barracks. As usual, Shockwave had not been gentle, but the scientist had let him go, much to his surprise. Even more unusually the purple mech had connected his comm. He hadn’t explained how to use it, but Sunstorm hoped that the blue seeker might show him.

The barracks seemed to be empty. Despite everything that had happened, he felt disappointed. He wanted to meet some fellow seekers. Shockwave had told him that the green mech was Acid Storm (after he had stuttered over his orders for a click), but not given any more information.

There was a data pad on the berth he had claimed. He looked at it for a click, then picked it up and turned it on. It contained some orders telling him to report to the training range at the start of the second shift for weapons practice. He had four jours left for recharge, so he swung himself onto the berth. Setting the data pad on the locker beside him.

The lights were dim, but the big room was brighter than his old one in the lab. The silence echoed strangely and it was a lot cooler than he was used to. He off-lined his optics, forcing himself into recharge.

*****************************************************

Acid Storm snarled as he watched Sunstorm in the air. The mech seemed to have no internal compass, GPS or, from the way he wobbled, gyroscope. The gold form came in for a pancake landing, followed by Icestorm who touched down with the natural grace of a born seeker.

“Sloppy!” Acid Storm barked. “Get up there and do it again!” Sunstorm picked himself up, flicking scraps of rust from his plating. “Now!” Acid Storm bellowed. The mech lumbered back into the air and Acid Storm hissed his displeasure.

Sunstorm infuriated him. He was incompetant and uneducated. He didn’t even seem to be aware that they were in the middle of a war. Icestorm was grumbling into his comm again, equally irritated with the mech they were supposed to be trying to keep from deactivating.

::Commander.:: Shockwave’s comm surprised him.

::Sir?::

::You will send Sunstorm to my lab at the start of the third shift.::

::Yes sir.:: Acid Storm knew that the gold mech disliked going to Shockwave’s lab. It would be an appropriate punishment for the mech’s appalling performance in the air. He would probably suggest that Sunstorm ask Shockwave for some basic mapping software while he was there.

**********************************************************************

Sunstorm ached all over. His helm hurt, the restraints dug into his wrists and thrusters, his wings were sore and cramped and his spark was agonising. He felt sick with the pain.

Finally...finally, Shockwave closed his chest plates and began piling his tools onto a trolley ready for decontamination. The scientist wheeled the trolley out of the room, deactivating the lights and leaving him alone and aching.

He whimpered silently, vocaliser predictably deactivated, and spark twisting in pain and sorrow. He wanted to go back to his cold, hard berth in the air barracks, or back to the control center to stare at monitors waiting for “Autobots” (he wasn’t sure what they were, but still), or even back to learning to fly under the contemptuous gaze of the other two seekers. Anything rather than be here.

He had hoped Shockwave had finished with him when he had been handed over to Acid Storm. The mech might not like him, but he didn't hurt him. Acid Storm was hard, but fair. If Sunstorm failed because of some reason outside his control then the worst he would do was glower. If the failure was because of something he should have known, but didn't, then Acid Storm would show him. Sunstorm accepted the sour comments about his lack of ability humbly, he was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with his programming because he seemed to take a long time to learn things that Acid Storm assumed he would know already.

He wished he knew how to please his commander, he lived for the rare moments when the mech would say that whatever task he had performed was adequate, and was desperately grateful for the flight training. Flying was quickly becoming his favourite thing about being away from Shockwave.

Perhaps if he tried harder to be useful Acid Storm would order him back from Shockwave's lab. The scientist had mentioned to one of the medics that Acid Storm had agreed to let him conduct his experiments for as long as necessary. He just had to be better, and Shockwave would have to hand him back.

*****************************************************************

It had been four cycles since Sunstorm had been sent back to Shockwave when he stumbled into the command centre, shuffling to attention.

He looked a mess, Icestorm noted, his panels and chest plates bore unmistakable signs of having been levered open, and there was a smear of grease on one wing. Icestorm could see that his trine leader was torn between upbraiding the golden mech for his slovenly appearance, or being grudgingly impressed that he had reported immediately.

Acid Storm opted to radiate silent disapproval.

“You can take over monitor duty for the rest of the shift, then you can have the second shift as down time.” Sunstorm slid into the seat that Acid Storm vacated, giving a tiny sigh of relief. Despite himself, Icestorm felt a pang of sympathy for the mech. Shockwave's lab was a brutal place. “We are heading out on patrol. There’s been Autobot activity in sector fifteen.”

Icestorm followed his trine leader out of the room, glancing behind him as they left to see Sunstorm already watching the monitors. He couldn't fault the mech for his diligence at least.

Acid Storm was looking worried as they headed for the main door. It was not an expression he would show Sunstorm.

“What's wrong?”

“There has been a lot of Autobot activity lately,” Acid Storm admitted. “I’m trying to get Shockwave to authorise us to pull Hotlink’s trine out of stasis, but he keeps saying that there are three of us now which should be more than sufficient.”

“Doesn't he realise how useless Sunstorm is? Frag, he can barely fly, he is constantly getting lost, he has no idea about basic regulations. Honestly I'm not sure he would even be capable of shooting at the Autobots if it came down to it.”

“I’ve tried telling Shockwave all that. He claims we just need to train Sunstorm properly.” Acid Storm huffed in irritation.

“He is trying,” Icestorm felt compelled to say as they took off. It was true, but Acid Storm was unlikely to want to hear that.

“He is very trying!” Acid Storm snarked back as they fell into formation, banking and heading for the patrol route. “He makes me so angry. Primus, he knows nothing. It makes me wonder if Shockwave even bothered downloading his memory files. I know that would be impossible, but still.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll train him eventually.” Unspoken was the thought that if they didn't, the Autobots would probably take care of the problem in a fairly terminal manner.

“Frag!” Acid Storm's surprised exclamation broke through his reverie. “Down to your right. Autobots!” They banked around for another pass, weaponry on-lining. Bolts sizzled around them as the Autobots dived for cover and began taking pot-shots at them. ::Acid Storm to base. We are taking fire from an Autobot patrol in sector fifteen.::

::Copy that.:: The base comm was answered by one of the grounders on duty. ::How many Autobots?::

::Five.:: Icestorm cut in. ::Actually make that four, one down, either offline or seriously injured.::

::Dispatching a ground patrol to sector fifteen. Keep them pinned down. Base out.::

“Yes, because I don’t know how to do my fragging job.” Acid Storm snarked, coming around for another pass. Icestorm chuckled, then banked sharply.

“Frag, that was close!” The Autobot shot had passed a little too close for comfort, scorching his wingtip. He dove lower, strafing the Autobots hiding place. “Got one!”

“Well done.” The blizzard of bolts faltered, but was renewed immediately as they pulled away. Icestorm could see the cloud of dust raised by the grounders racing to their location. He could also see a cloud from the opposite direction. Autobot reinforcements.

***********************************************

Icestorm and Acid Storm returned to base in high spirits. Two confirmed kills plus another either deactivated or seriously injured. Sunstorm tracked their progress to the control centre on the monitors, noting their scorched plating.

He wasn’t totally sure what had happened. 

Both seekers strutted into the control room, looking pleased. Acid Storm slapped his trine mate on the back and slid into a chair in front of a console. Sunstorm watched him covertly, keeping his attention apparently focussed on the monitors.

“Shockwave here.” The cultured voice of the commander filled the room from the speaker. Sunstorm hid a flinch, concentrating frantically on his job. His spark fluttered in fear. He did not want to go back to Shockwave’s lab.

“We need Hotlink’s trine out of stasis. We are getting more Autobot incursions around sectors fourteen to sixteen. Their base must be somewhere that way and we need to get it checked out. We are close enough to the closest star that the solar collectors can be set up.”

There was a click of silence, then… “Understood. Set the solar collectors up with a guard and I will get them out of stasis. Shockwave out.”

Acid Storm spun around, looking smug. “A result. Thank Primus!” He stood, looking at Sunstorm. “The two of you will be on guard duty for the collectors for the third shift.” 

Sunstorm felt a little flutter of excitement at the idea of spending his duty shift with someone else, and at the thought of meeting more seekers. He tried to squash it down. There was no guarantee that Hotlink’s trine would be any friendlier that Acid Storm and Icestorm, but Sunstorm had hope.

*********************************************************

Guard duty was dull, Sunstorm realised after only a jour of an eight jour shift. Icestorm was a quiet companion, and the gold mech didn’t want to risk angering him by asking questions, although he had a lot.

He was realising that the Autobots were some sort of danger, although he still wasn’t sure what they were, or why. He would have liked to know more, especially what they looked like and what he was supposed to do if he saw one.

He wanted to know more about his fellow seekers as well. If he knew how to please Acid Storm, then the commander might decide not to let Shockwave have him again. He was also simply curious. He wanted to know when Icestorm had left Shockwave’s lab, and what had happened to him there. He wanted to know about Acid Storm too. It would be reassuring to know that he wasn’t alone in what he had gone through. 

A tiny, unacknowledged part of his processor wanted to make a connection with his fellow seekers. He didn’t understand why he wanted to be close to them, or why he felt so irrationally hurt when they dismissed him. He put it down to his defective programming. It wasn’t logical (Shockwave’s word, not his) to feel like there was a gap in his spark.

Icestorm shifted and expelled a gusty sigh through his vents. Sunstorm looked over at him. 

“Primus, I hate guard duty.” He wasn’t looking at Sunstorm and the comment seemed to have been directed at random.

“Is it always like this?” That was a nice neutral response, unlikely to get him into trouble for being a particularly stupid thing to say.

“Yeah. We’ve got lots of grounders on the base, I don’t know why we got saddled with this.” Icestorm made a rude noise, and Sunstorm giggled. Icestorm glanced over at him, but didn’t say anything. He turned his attention back outwards. “We’ve got patrols out, I doubt we’ll see anything back here.”

“Acid Storm is pleased that another trine will be here to share the duties though, isn’t he?”

“I’m pleased. I’m fed up with pulling double shifts. I bet you are too.” Sunstorm was confused. He hadn’t realised that was what they had been doing. The idea of having more downtime was strangely daunting.

“Yeah,” he said hollowly. “So, who are Hotlink’s trine?”

“You won’t know them. Hotlink is an engineer. Bitstream is his right wing, he’s a medic, and Nacelle, who is the left wing, is a sniper.”

Sunstorm wasn’t terribly comfortable with the idea of an engineer and a medic, especially if he was going to be recharging in the same room as them.

“Hotlink can be a bit…” Icestorm searched for the word. “Enthusiastic.” Sunstorm hid a flinch. Enthusiastic was a worrying term. “He’s a weapon designer by training. A lot of his early designs got stolen by the Autobots.” Icestorm snorted. “Bitstream and Nacelle were slaves. Nacelle doesn’t do well with strangers, even other seekers.”

“Oh.”

“You might have to schedule your downtime for when they are on shift. Otherwise Acid Storm will have to move you out of the air barracks if Nacelle gets upset.”

“Okay. Thank you for warning me.” Sunstorm suppressed a shudder. He had no doubt that Acid Storm would send him back to Shockwave in those circumstances. Icestorm just grunted, attention focussing on the horizon.

************************************************************

The second trine were clearly on-line, although, from the shouting coming from the medbay, Nacelle at least was not happy about it. Acid Storm sighed. Long experience told him that if Nacelle was in this sort of mood it would be best to leave the trine firmly alone. He just hoped that the little storm would blow itself out before the end of the shift.

Just in case it didn’t, he began updating the rota. Icestorm was due a downshift, but Sunstorm could do a second one. Bitstream would probably welcome a quiet shift as well. It would probably be better to give Nacelle a bit of space. Having to put the mech in the brig as soon as he had been brought out of stasis would not look good for anyone. Sometimes a wise commander had to turn a blind optic, and sometimes they had to rearrange the rota and hope for the best.

He pinged the updated rota to his fellow seekers, receiving five acknowledgements back. He dreaded to think how Nacelle would react to Sunstorm. He hadn’t actually mentioned the golden mech’s existence to them yet. He told himself it was because he hadn’t had the opportunity, but if he was honest, he knew he didn’t want the hassle of asking Shockwave to take the mech back. The purple scientist would not understand, and Nacelle was unlikely to be happy recharging in the same building as a grounder, wings notwithstanding. 

He could probably move the mech out of the way to the grounders barracks. It wasn’t a great solution, but the alternative was having to explain to Shockwave why his little experiment had ended up with a throwing dagger in the back. Sunstorm would probably be happier around grounders anyway. Acid Storm weighed up the options. Hotlink was a very smart mech, and would probably figure it out quickly. The mech would inevitably tell his trine mates too, Hotlink was the biggest gossip in the airforce.

Decision made, he pinged a quick request to Flashburn, who was commanding the grounders currently out of stasis. Flashburn pinged a confirmation that there was a berth available and Acid Storm relaxed slightly. 

********************************************************

Sunstorm fought to keep his wings from slumping when Acid Storm sent the new rota showing he had another shift on guard duty. Even worse, it was with the medic, Bitstream. Icestorm by contrast brightened.

“Shockwave has obviously get them out of stasis then. Thank Primus. I thought I was going to have to do three shifts back to back.” 

Sunstorm made an appropriate noise and nodded, before stiffening as Acid Storm’s second set of orders came through. Icestorm cocked his helm, curiously.

“What?”

“New orders. I’m to report to the grounder barracks for my off shifts.” Sunstorm was relieved that, at least, Acid Storm had not insisted he go back to Shockwave.

“Nacelle must be in rare form.” Icestorm shrugged, not entirely unsympathetically. “You’ll have to watch out for the grounders, though.” Sunstorm looked curious, but Icestorm didn’t elaborate and they lapsed into silence until Bitstream arrived to relieve them.

Bitstream landed neatly and sauntered towards them. “Anything I need to know about?” he asked.

“No, it was a quiet shift.” Icestorn clapped the other seeker on the shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you next cycle, I’m going to recharge.”

“Ok.” Bitstream gripped his forearm briefly. “Acid Storm’s asked me to check you over sometime too.”

“Acid Storm worries too much,” Icestorm snorted. “But alright.”

“Next cycle then, I’ll send you a scheduling ping.” Icestorm waved and took off, transforming smoothly in the air and shooting back to base. Bitstream turned to Sunstorm who was holding himself tensely. “Who are you?” The medic’s tone was cool, but not unfriendly.

“Sunstorm, sir.”

“Sunstorm?” Bitstream’s tone became sharper with interest. Sunstorm did not like the speculative expression on the other mech’s face. Medics had looked at him like that before, usually just before they did something unpleasant to him.

“Yessir.” Politeness and a rigid adherence to the protocol drummed into him by Acid Storm were Sunstorm’s only armour at this point. Bitstream kept looking at him and he straightened his backstrut and focussed his optics somewhere over the medic’s right wing.

“Hm.” Bitstream stared a bit longer then turned away. Sunstorm caught himself before he sagged in relief and turned his attention outwards again. “You were in Shockwave’s lab, weren’t you?” Sunstorm’s spark sank.

“Yessir.”

****************************************************

Sunstorm had not collected his personal effects before heading for the grounder barracks. He had asked, but mindful that Nacelle was still upset, Acid Storm had denied him. Bitstream had offered to give them to him when the golden mech came to the medbay for a scan, and the commander had agreed. 

Bitstream had tried to pull Sunstorm’s medical file, but was stopped short by Shockwave’s personal encryption. He snorted, annoyed. Shockwave didn’t seem to understand the necessity of complete patient files. Fortunately, Bitstream knew a couple of tricks. He pulled the camera footage from Shockwave’s lab instead, cycling through the previous vorn of compressed video to work out what Shockwave had been doing to the mech. 

The scientist had been working on something with the gold mech’s spark, that much was obvious. It was concerning. Bitstream was well aware of his own limitations, and spark surgery was definitely one of them. He growled softly, cycling back further. There were vorns of footage to review. Sunstorm looked to have led a dull existence in the lab. Shockwave was in the habit of locking the mech in a storage room when he wasn’t being worked on.

There were periodic camera glitches in the footage, and whole cycles worth of static or low-resolution images. Some portions were greyscale rather than colour and Bitstream paused at a portion which seemed to show Sunstorm’s frame being constructed. There were a couple of flickers of colour here and there, enough to show a frame, uninhabited by a spark.

Curious, Bitstream cycled backwards a little further, wanting to see where Shockwave had brought the spark in from. The footage certainly bore out Acid Storm’s theory that the mech was a grounder spark.

Another greyscale image, and the picture suddenly showed another seeker strapped to Shockwave’s table. Bitstream couldn’t tell who from the angle, but Shockwave was doing something to his spark. He froze as an image caught his attention. The scientist was removing a spark from the seeker’s chest, and placing it into a containment field.

“Frag!” Bitstream swore. The spark wasn’t an adult one, it was a sparkling... Sunstorm was a sparkling. “Frag!” Acid Storm’s complaints about the mech suddenly appeared in a more sinister light. The things he didn’t know, because he had never been taught them. Shockwave would never have synced with him the way a creator would, so a whole slew of programs would never have been brought online. Primus, had anyone even explained that they were at war? 

::Acid Storm?:: The commander needed to know about this. ::You need to come to the medbay now.::

*********************************************************

“Are you sure?” Acid Storm held his helm as though he was trying to stave off a processor crash. Bitstream didn't blame him. It was uncomfortable to think about just how young Sunstorm clearly was. 

“Without doing a scan, yes.” Acid Storm looked up hopefully, and Bitstream felt compelled to temper that feeling. “I can't do a scan, we don't have the equipment, but I am sure.”

“Frag.” Acid Storm dropped his servos to the table top and stared at them. “How old do you think he is?” The green seeker’s field was a mess of guilt, anger and fear. Bitstream knew that his next words would probably upset the commander more.

“Twenty vorns. Thirty, tops.”

“Primus!” Acid Storm breathed. “He's so young.” Bitstream put a servo on his shoulder and Acid Storm patted it briefly. “I thought he was a grounder. That poor kid.” 

“I doubt he’s ever synced with anyone. You said his mapping software doesn’t appear to be functional? It should have come online with his first sync with his creator.” Bitstream grimaced expressively.

“He probably hates me by now.” Acid Storm shook his helm. “He won’t want to sync with me.” The admission clearly cost him a lot to make. “He’s not stuck with the grounders, at least.”

“Don’t write him off just yet. He might warm to you both.” Bitstream hoped that the young mech did. He was young to start forming a trine, but there were so few seekers left.

“I doubt it.”


	3. Mothers Day - Cybertronian Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstorm discovers Mothers Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some shameless fluff for the season.
> 
> Also Happy World Storytelling Day!

Wheeljack had explained some of the human holidays to Sunstorm, thinking the young seeker would be interested. He had been a bit bemused when the concept of Easter had been explained, but he liked the idea of Christmas and giving gifts. 

Wheeljack was a bit disappointed that he was less interested in the holidays traditionally involving explosions, but had willingly indulged his curiosity. The poor kid was far too young to have experienced any Cybertronian holidays. Wheeljack made a note to suggest to Prime that they revive some of the bigger festivals now that the war was over.

Sunstorm liked the idea of giving presents. He was a generous spark, something Wheeljack appreciated, the war had made too many mechs selfish so to meet someone so giving warmed his battered spark.

Perceptor had filled Sunstorm in on some of the less common Earth holidays. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about Valentines Day which caused Wheeljack to grin under his mask. Perceptor had muttered something about “cultural research” and “courtship rituals”, but his field had been embarrassed. It was made worse by Sunstorm asking some very searching questions.

The golden seeker had been interested by the idea of mothers and fathers day too, especially when Wheeljack mentioned that there had been a similar Cybertronian tradition of honouring ones creators on ones own activation date. Sunstorm had been a little wistful at that, the poor kid didn’t know his activation date, and had never celebrated it. The thought made Wheeljack sad.

Sunstorm didn’t know his creators either, or rather he did, but no-one was cruel enough to tell him who they were.

Wheeljack suspected something was up when Sunstorm started subtly asking about Ratchet’s favoured treats. Unfortunately, as Wheeljack knew, Ratchet’s absolute favourite were the sour energon jellies with the gooey centre. Difficult to make, and the formula was hard to find.

Sunstorm was surprisingly stubborn though, tracking down the formula in one of Ratchet’s data pads and practicing it over and over in between making batches of solvent in the lab. The other scientists appreciated the failed attempts though, which were certainly tasty, although messy. Sunstorm kept trying, pretty face screwed up in concentration.

When he finally perfected the mix after several cycles of trial and error he gave a little chirp of glee which made Wheeljack look over at him.

“Did it work?”

“Yeah!” Sunstorm’s usually solemn expression, was replaced by a happy little smile. Wheeljack gave him a little hug.

“Well done. What did you do?”

I needed to get the temperature right and it needed to be heated very precisely. I didn’t know what the temperature was or how long, but I do now.” His field was flushed with accomplishment so Wheeljack responded with his own pride. Sunstorm ducked his helm, but was still smiling as he shovelled the cooled treats into a packet. He topped the packet with a slip of metallic gold ribbon. Wheeljack recognised it as something he had given the youngster.

“That looks pretty.”

“It’s for Ratchet.” Sunstorm revealed shyly.

“I bet he’ll love it, Sunny. He really likes those treats.”

Sunstorm was still smiling at the end of his shift, and bounced beside Wheeljack when the engineer walked him back to Ratchet’s quarters.

Ratchet opened the door and was slightly surprised to have the packet of treats thrust into his servo. 

“Wha...?”

“It’s for you. I made them for you, for looking after me.”

Ratchet’s usually slightly grumpy expression morphed into one of pleased surprise and Wheeljack caught his optic, pinging him the data about how hard Sunstorm had worked on the treats.

“Sweetspark, that was so kind of you.” He pulled the seeker into a hug, nuzzling the top of his helm as Wheeljack gave a little wave, vocal indicators glowing a happy blue, and wandered in the direction of his own quarters. Sunstorm was such a sweet kid.


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of Another Deception Skywarp and Thundercracker talk Starscream out of running away. This is a little scene about what happened next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silverstar880 asked: "Could you perhaps write what happens between Optimus and Starscream after he leads Star back inside after they return. I just can't help but wonder how Optimus would react once Starscream came back and what happens next."
> 
> The answer to that, as it happens, is yes! :)

This tantrum eclipsed all that had been thrown previously.

Optimus had known it was coming. Starscream had been shaking as soon as he had taken hold of the white seeker. His field was terrified, and he had attempted to jerk his way out of Optimus’ careful grip. Optimus had got him moving, back to the relative safety of their quarters. He would much prefer that the young Decepticon had his breakdown somewhere he could be safe.

The Prime had known that Starscream would try running as soon as he got into the air, but his trine mates had clearly talked him out of it. Optimus set a quick ping to Prowl and Ironhide to find out what their young charges wanted as a reward, not that he would phrase it like that. Starscream was obviously anticipating punishment for his disregard of Optimus’ instructions, but the Prime was just relieved that the seeker had returned without major drama.

Starscream was shaking harder when Optimus ushered him into their quarters, vents coming in ragged gasps as he tried to cool his overheated processor. Calming Starscream down was obviously going to be a delicate job, particularly when the storm broke as Optimus locked the door.

Optimus kept his distance. Starscream was overwrought, and unlikely to welcome his presence while panicking. The last thing he wanted was for the seeker to crash again. Ratchet would not be pleased.

When Starscream began choking Optimus moved quickly to bring him to sit on the floor, hunched forward. The stress of his upset had triggered a cascade of failures through his systems. Not as severe as a crash, but painful nonetheless. Starscream’s tanks were reacting as though the energon in them was compromised, and was forcing his systems to purge.

Optimus held the slender frame, ignoring the way it shook with the force of the purge. A puddle of warm energon was forming as Starscream's main intake opened. Optimus knew how much purging hurt. Starscream was tense as his joints locked, and his wings swept back at an unnatural angle. The burn of his intake and throat tubing would be horrible, and the pain in his processor would be the rust stick to top it all off.

Fortunately the short flight meant Starscream's tank was low, and the purge was mercifully quick, although the fifteen clicks felt far longer than they should have done. Optimus held him more tightly as he sagged, shaking.

Ratchet’s ping at the door startled him, but Optimus sent the unlock code in a quick databurst. He was grateful to the chief medic for responding so quickly to the emergency comm he had sent when he realised Starscream had worked himself into a state.

“What have you done to yourself?” Ratchet crossed to the pair immediately, kneeling beside the shivering seeker and reaching for his servo. Starscream whimpered and slapped weakly at the medic, but Ratchet simply caught one of the flailing limbs and popped the port cover open with the ease of long practice. Starscream made an unhappy sound, trying to pull away, but Ratchet held on, crooning soothingly as he synced with the seeker’s systems.

“He started getting distressed when we got back here.” Optimus told the medic. “I commed when he began purging.” Ratchet made a non-committal noise, stroking the servo he held.

::Do I take it he wasn't entirely obedient about the flight?:: Ratchet asked over a private comm. Optimus appreciated his discretion.

::Not exactly, no.::

::That figures.:: Aloud he simply asked. “What hurts?” 

“Ev’rythin’” Starscream's voice was weak and slurred. Optimus realised he had offlined his optics, and his face was a mask of pain and misery. That alone was significant, Starscream would never usually allow such weakness to show.

“Everything hurts? What specifically? Your helm, your joints, your intake?”

“All hurts.” The seeker whimpered again, vents hiccuping. Ratchet looked over at Optimus, who shrugged. The medic disconnected his cable, giving the blue servo a final pat.

“I can give you something to help with the pain.” He promised. “Your intake is still going to be uncomfortable, but it should help you relax.”

“No!” Starscream's voice was stronger, and he on-lined his optics, wincing. Ratchet placed a steadying servo on his cheek.

“Your frame needs to relax Starscream.” The medic stroked his cheek arch as Starscream looked away. “Continuing pain means you are more likely to purge again when you get some energon back in your tanks.” Starscream shook his helm slightly, groaning as the movement made his processor swim. “I don’t want you crashing again either.” He fished a pain patch out of his subspace. “Come on, you know it will make you feel better.”

Starscream shook his helm again, and whimpered in pain.

“Please Starscream.” Optimus put in, stroking the white wings. “You don’t want another crash.”

“Don’ like it. S’too strong.” Starscream’s voice was staticky, and he sagged further in Optimus’ arms.

“I know kid, I know, but it needs to be strong enough to make the pain stop.” Ratchet kept stroking his helm. Starscream whimpered again and nodded slightly. His field was full of pain and discomfort. “Good kid.” Ratchet murmured, plugging the chip carefully into the access port at the base of the seeker’s helm.

“Come on Star, let’s sit somewhere more comfortable.” Optimus lifted the young mech as he spoke, cradling him against his chestplates. He settled them on the couch with Starscream seated sideways in his lap. The seeker was already sagging as the pain patch took effect.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” Ratchet asked. Starscream just shrugged, but his field was less uncomfortable. Ratchet took the opportunity to check the white wings, gently moving the plating around the hinges. Starscream shifted restlessly, but allowed the inspection without protest. “It doesn’t look like you’ve hurt anything.” Ratchet straightened from his crouch. “Your tank is going to be a bit delicate so I’ll send some filtered energon over for you.” 

“Thank you Ratchet.” Optimus said when he realised Starscream was not about to answer. His arms were wrapped securely around the seeker and the dark helm was resting against his shoulder “Is there anything else we need to do?”

“Just keep him calm and warm.” Ratchet told him. “I’ll get ‘Aid to bring the energon over, and I’ll check him again tomorrow.” The medic rested his servo on Starscream’s shoulder. “You stay calm Starscream. Optimus will look after you, you just relax.” Starscream made a disagreeable noise, but remained where he was, field still stressed but less so than before. “Good kid.” Ratchet nodded at his leader and headed for the door as Optimus nuzzled Starscream’s helm gently.


	5. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven young seekers, all reacting in their own ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing quite a lot at the moment (not going out will do that) so have another chapter.
> 
> A few people asked what was happening with the conehead trine. So have some snippits.

Ratchet had covertly watched the way that Acid Storm and Icestorm touched their young trine mate. The older seekers were careful with Sunstorm, their touches were always gentle, usually to his helm, shoulders and the top edge of his wings. 

One thing Ratchet had noticed was that if they wanted Sunstorm to relax, or recharge, they would drop their servo’s lower, to the hinges of his wings. The golden mech would start purring, and would be swiftly reduced to a happy puddle of seeker. Ratchet had noticed a similar reaction when he helped the youngster polish up, but he wanted to know why.

“It’s a seeker thing.” Icestorm had told him when the medic asked him. “Wings are sensitive.”

Ratchet knew this all too well. The wings of flight capable mecha were packed with specialised sensor equipment. In root mode they were usually shielded to prevent the mech being overwhelmed by sensory data, but a gentle touch would be very pleasurable.

That reaction was so specific though, Ratchet thought there must be more to it.

A bit of careful research provided more insight. Where most grounder sparklings had a scruff bar either high on the shoulders or down at the waist, seekers and shuttles had theirs between their wings.

For a young mech who had been upgraded from a sparkling frame the reaction would make sense. They would be used to their creators touching them there, and associate it with safety and trust.

Bitstream had supplied a bit more information after some gentle prompting. Acid Storm had carefully conditioned his young trine mate to relax into touches to his wing hinges. Ratchet didn’t exactly approve, but he could see the reason.

Ratchet wasn’t above using the knowledge to relax his young charge, especially after visits to the medbay. Anything that helped Sunstorm settle more quickly was worth trying in Ratchet’s opinion.  
*********************************************************  
Ramjet hissed when Hoist patted his shoulder. It was more a reflex by this point than any real expression of displeasure. Ramjet made noise and fuss as though the medic’s touch angered him, but his field was actually quite calm about it. The seeker had a far higher tolerance for stray pats and hugs than most of his framekin. Hoist and Ratchet theorised that Ramjet’s tendency to get injured meant he was more used to being handled by grounders.

“Don’t hiss.” Hoist warned him, as he usually did. Not that Ramjet paid any attention, but it too was also almost reflex by now. “Grapple just commed me to tell me he will be here soon.” He cocked his helm at the seeker. “Are you going to behave?”

Ramjet grunted neutrally, and then hissed again when Hoist put a gentle servo on the top edge of his wing. He didn’t twitch out of his caretaker’s grasp and Hoist stroked the dark wing carefully.

“Use words please. Are you going to behave?”

“Yes.” Ramjet added a dramatic huff to the word, but Hoist knew it was still very much for show. The mech actually seemed to get along with Grapple, as much as anyone did. Ramjet had shown a surprising interest in construction and architecture, an interest that Grapple, as one of the very few architects left on Cybertron, was keen to foster.

“Good.” The servo slid down his wing to the hinges, rubbing little circles and Ramjet gave a little involuntary chirr. Hoist smiled at the sound of pleasure which was accompanied by a slight relaxation of the young seeker’s plating. “Grapple is bringing some supplies. He wants to show you how to make some architectural models. I think you’ll enjoy doing that.” One wing was shrugged negligently, but Ramjet’s field was interested.

Hoist had found that keeping Ramjet occupied was a good way to stop him from getting destructive, and also that he enjoyed building things. The combination was helping keep property damage, and personal injury to a minimum.

**********************************************************  
Ironhide had sussed for himself that Skywarp found touches to his wings relaxing, especially across the top edges. It took a while, the black seeker was still nervous about being touched, but Ironhide could see it working faster each time.

Skywarp didn’t object to being touched, and was starting to lean in when Ironhide put a friendly arm around his shoulders. He was careful to back off if the young mech displayed any serious discomfort, and treasured the times that Skywarp initiated contact.

Ironhide often found himself petting the black wings if Skywarp snuggled into his side. It was something that was happening more and more now that the young mech was starting to trust his caretaker. After ten or fifteen clicks Skywarp would start making soft, happy noises, and relax further.

Ironhide was also finding that gently gripping Skywarp’s wing hinges was a good way to help calm the seeker in tense situations. When the black wings flared up and wide and Skywarp was confronting someone who made him nervous a big servo around the base of his wing, and Ironhide’s solid presence at his back, was sometimes enough.  
***********************************  
Knowing Thundercracker’s history, Prowl was skeptical that touching his wings would help relax the mech. He would accept gentle petting when upset, but tended to pull away after only a short time.

The blue seeker was not one for excessive movement. He tended to keep his wings relatively still, without the obvious twitches and flutters that Skywarp or Starscream displayed. Prowl suspected that he had learned to keep still to avoid attracting the wrong sort of attention.

The wrong sort of attention being Megatron of course.

Thundercracker didn’t particularly welcome stray touches. He would stiffen slightly when Prowl put a servo on his arm, and tended to slide out of reach if any other Autobots initiated contact. Prowl got the impression that the young mech tolerated it under sufferance. 

With other seekers he was more willing to touch and be touched, but Prowl had noted he was more likely to initiate the contact with every mech except his trine mates.

Smokescreen was far more tactile than Prowl, patting Thundercracker’s shoulder, or sometimes putting a servo on top of his wing. Thundercracker didn’t seem to enjoy it, but he didn’t protest. Prowl was impressed by the level of trust his relative had managed to establish with the blue seeker because Thundercracker didn’t actively avoid the touch.

The gossip network was clearly working when Prowl noted that Smokescreen had started rubbing his servo’s across the seeker’s wings and hinges if the young mech seemed nervous or distressed. Prowl was surprised that it seemed to work, and Thundercracker would calm slightly.

Smokescreen just looked impossibly smug when Prowl mentioned it.

***************************************  
Thrust was curled on the couch, scarlet optics slitted. Kup could tell the young mech was watching him as he pottered about, tidying the room. 

“Shall I put your circuit boards back in your room?” He asked, placing the objects back in their box as he spoke, and putting the soldering iron back in the case. Thrust gave a vaguely negative noise and rolled off the couch, taking the long way around to keep the furniture between himself and his caretaker. The seeker took the box and soldering iron and returned it to his room. 

Kup gave him a quick smile when he came back out, pleased that the youngster was starting to spend more time in his company without the unnecessary shrieking. He was still nervous, but since the older Autobot had started bringing him circuit boards and components to assemble he had found something else to focus on. Kup encouraged him to sit at the table, soldering boards for data pads and sat opposite him, cleaning salvaged parts in companionable silence.

“Energon?” he asked when Thrust had settled back onto the couch. He got another grunt, a more positive one this time. Kup put the cube and the supplements in front of the seeker and came to sit at the other end of the couch. Thrust stiffened, optics locked on his caretaker, but Kup just took his cy-gar out of his mouth and took a sip of his own cube. The seeker shifted uneasily, still uncomfortable with even this level of closeness.

Thrust toyed with his own cube, but Kup ignored his fidgeting. He wasn’t about to dive in to anything, Thrust was still far too jumpy to allow more than brief touches, but it was a start. Kup planned to put something on the console and wait for the youngster to fall into recharge on the couch. This time he would try waking the seeker with a gentle touch again, rather than making some noise to see how the kid would react.

********************************  
Inferno had had relatively little trouble getting Dirge onto the code scanner. The youngster was far less emotional than any of the other seekers, and most Autobots. His trine mates tended to elicit the strongest reaction, particularly Thrust who seemed to make Dirge jumpy, but without them he would sink into himself.

Wheeljack and Smokescreen theorised it was a coding issue. If Inferno didn’t try and force the mech into interacting and provide lots of stimulation, physical and mental, Dirge would simply remain curled on his berth in a miserable little ball. Ratchet thought that his behaviour was reminiscent of someone whose code had been altered by circuit boosters. Privately Inferno would not have been surprised if the Constructicons had resorted to dosing his charge with the drug to keep him functioning in the way Megatron required.

Dirge sat, plugged into the scanner with his optics unfocussed and his wings slumped. Wheeljack had tried to interest him in some of the equipment in the lab, but Dirge had simply stared dully at him.

“You gonna come back to us Dirge? The scan is done.” Inferno put a servo on his shoulder, squeezing slightly to get the blue mech’s attention. Crimson optics brightened and sharpened, but Dirge made no move to stand or disconnect the scanner. Inferno began disconnecting him, tugging him to his peds.

“I’ll get this downloaded.” Wheeljack offered, hooking the scanner to the console, and loading a data chip. Dirge’s optics were becoming unfocussed again and Inferno reached out and gently tweaked a wingtip.

“Stay with us Dirge. You can zone out back in our quarters.” 

“All done.” Wheeljack announced, offering Dirge the data pad with the chip loaded. “Come through to the other room and we’ll talk about what you need.” Inferno steered the young mech through the door, servos on his shoulders. 

He pressed Dirge to sit, settling on one side of him while Wheeljack took the other. It gained a reaction, as Dirge’s optics brightened further and a thread of fear wound through the usually flat field.

“It’s alright.” Inferno tried to reassure him. “Look at the data pad.” Dirge turned it on, and the fear was tempered with confusion as the young mech started to puzzle out the glyphs. Of all the seekers Dirge seemed to have the greatest issues with Cybertronian Standard, written and spoken. The two Autobots sat in silence as he puzzled out the data pad. Frustration started to leak into his field as well and Inferno rested a servo on his arm.

“You want me to explain?” Wheeljack asked, kindly. 

*******************************  
Starscream was still rather touch starved, but he wasn’t happy about allowing an Autobot to touch him.

Especially the Prime.

Ratchet was not pleased, but Starscream was adept at pulling off distractions. Particularly distractions which left the medic fuming, he was not keen on allowing patients to get the best of him. Ratchet reluctantly acknowledged that, in the white seeker, he had almost met his match.

Almost, but not quite!

Starscream might be sneaky, but no mech could beat Ratchet for sheer, iron-helmed stubbornness. That Ratchet could get cooperation from the Prime helped significantly.

Starscream fumed under Optimus’ servos. Ratchet had insisted that he get a minimum of a jour of physical contact every cycle and had set up a timetable. Starscream had tried running, hiding, and throwing a tantrum, but Optimus had been insistent. Starscream had hunched his shoulders and folded his arms defensively as Optimus gently applied polish to his wings.

“Are you going to stop sulking?” Optimus asked conversationally.

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Optimus kept polishing, feeling Starscream relax by increments. The seeker didn’t want to settle or untense his plating, but Optimus wasn’t going to give him much of a choice.

Eventually Starscream was purring in contentment. It had taken a little more than a jour, but Optimus wasn’t going to mention it if Starscream didn’t.


	6. Flight Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Copperace said "I'd personally love to see Sunstorm's trinemates finally flying free with him."
> 
> Turns out my muse wanted to see that too! This is sheer cotton candy fluff with sugar sprinkles. I refuse to take responsibility for indigestion caused when reading this.
> 
> Enjoy.

Sunstorm was bouncing eagerly on his peds as Acid Storm and Icestorm were led out by a trio of guards. He launched himself at his trine leader with a little squeak of excitement, flinging his arms around Acid Storm’s neck. Acid Storm took a step back under the sudden additional weight, and the guard escorting him steadied them. 

“Easy Sunny.” Ratchet warned the young seeker, moving to put a careful servo on a gold wing. Sunstorm muttered something which might have been “Sorry” from where his face was buried in Acid Storm’s neck. Ratchet smiled fondly. “Come on Sunny, put him down.” Sunstorm peeled himself off his trine mate, looking a little embarrassed. “Good kid.”

The three seekers were led to the clear space which had become the designated take-off and landing zone for flight frames. Sunstorm was bouncing again, and even the two older seekers shifted restlessly, although they hid their excitement better.

“Right.” Ratchet announced, clapping his servos for attention. Three sets of bright optics focussed on him. “Here is your flight area.” He sent the datafile and Acid Storm nodded once in acknowledgment. “You have a jour. Enjoy yourselves.” He stepped back and nodded to the guards who released the two older seekers.

Acid Storm took off, followed by his trine mates. The trine leader could feel excitement and joy thrumming through their bond and he led them in a wide arc around the perimeter of their flight area. Part of him wanted to lead them somewhere safe, away from the Autobots, but he knew that was wishful thinking.

::This is nice.:: Sunstorm commented. Acid Storm could feel the wistfulness across the bond from his youngest trine mate. ::Like it used to be.:: Like it was before the end of the war Sunstorm meant, of course, when the trine flew endless patrols across the dead surface of Cybertron.

It was nothing like it used to be, when the towers of Vos still stood and hundreds of seekers filled the sky. Acid Storm regretted that Sunstorm would never get to experience that. That he would never get to play with younglings of his own age. 

::We don’t need to spend all our flight time just flying like it is a patrol.:: Icestorm reminded his trine. ::We should play Trail Track.::

If Acid Storm had been in his root mode his face would have split into a grin. Trail Track was a sparkling game, and one he hadn’t played since he was in his third frame and he and Icestorm had been searching for a third member for their trine.

::What’s Trail Track?:: Sunstorm asked innocently.

::It’s a flying game.:: Icestorm replied, allowing his own enthusiasm to leak across the bond. ::One of us is the chaser and is allowed to transform, but the mechs being chased can’t. The chaser tries to catch you and tag you by tapping you. If you get tapped you have to land and take off again and you become the chaser. The chaser can only tap you if they are in root mode, and can only stay in root mode for half a click at a time.::

::I want to play.:: Sunstorm’s end of the bond was alight with excitement. ::It sounds fun.::

::Alright, we’ll stay within the perimeter and I’ll chase first.:: Acid Storm offered. ::Wings, Wind, Sky, coming ready or not!::

Icestorm peeled out of formation immediately darting back the way they had just come. Sunstorm headed off at a right angle. Acid Storm knew Sunstorm would be easier to catch, but opted to go after Icestorm, wanting to show the youngster how the game was played first.

Icestorm twirled and jinked, tossing sarcastic remarks across the comm, but Acid Storm caught up with him and twisted into his root mode to slap his servo on a pale blue thruster.

::Gotcha!::

Icestorm dived for the ground, touching down briefly and taking off again in one neat motion. He arrowed towards Acid Storm but veered off at the last moment to pursue Sunstorm who shot off, flying erratically to evade him. Sunstorm was fast, but Icestorm was much wilier and tagged the edge of one golden wing.

Sunstorm landed and took off. To Acid Storm’s critical optic it still left something to be desired, but part of the point of this game was to encourage young seekers to learn how to perform the complex manoeuvres necessary for safe flying.

Sunstorm was faster than both of them, but far less experienced. He finally managed to tag Icestorm again, who went after Acid Storm. The comm was full of good natured chatter and teasing. Acid Storm knew the channel would be monitored, but feeling the uncomplicated joy of playing a sparkling game with his trine he couldn’t bring himself to care that much.

He was conscious of a sense of disappointment when they got the ping telling them to land, but he swallowed it and obediently turned back to the landing zone.

His guard approached when he touched down, but didn’t immediately grab him. Sunstorm landed and leapt for him again, hanging affectionately around his neck. He hugged the golden mech back, releasing him to allow Sunstorm to give Icestorm the same enthusiastic treatment.

“Did you enjoy that?” Ratchet strolled up to the trio, and received his own hug from Sunstorm. 

“It was amazing. Can we fly again soon? Please.” Ratchet huffed a little laugh, petting Sunstorm’s wings.

“Of course sweetspark. We are going to organise for you to fly together regularly.” Sunstorm squeaked and hugged him tighter. Acid Storm felt a tiny flutter of the jealousy that he always felt when seeing his trine mate being hugged or reassured by Ratchet, but it was easily buried under the happiness of being able to fly with his trine.


	7. Food Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FishFlesh prompted me with "food fight". Short and sweet - like this fic.

Sunstreaker roared in outrage. Sticky purple energex clung to his plating and dripped from his helm fins. Blurr actually looked shocked at his own daring, then slightly panicked when Sunstreaker dived across Sideswipe to tackle him.

Blurr’s speed and lighting reflexes were the only thing that saved him from landing on the hard floor, buried under several tonnes of furious frontliner. He gave a little squeak of fear and took off, taking the tight turn out of the rec-room door with his customary flair.

Bigger, heavier, and slower Sunstreaker took the corner wide, almost colliding with Ironhide and Skywarp in the doorway. Sunstreaker growled and kept running. Ironhide looked between the retreating yellow twin and the hysterically laughing red one.

“Do Ah want ta know?”

“Blurr jus’ chucked a cube ‘f energex at Sunny.” Sideswipe managed between gasping vents. “His face was so funny!”

Ironhide kept his optics on Sideswipe as the red frontliner calmed down. In the face of the glare from his superior officer Sideswipe sobered eventually.

“An’ why did Blurr throw a cube over Sunny?” Ironhide asked calmly. Skywarp had retreated behind the big Autobot and was staring at the little puddle of energon with a disapproving expression.

“Well I miiiiight have said something that wound them both up.” Sideswipe’s grin was full of unholy glee. Ironhide grunted in displeasure.

“Well then, ya c’n jus’ scrub th’ energon off floor.” The grin fell from Sideswipe’s face, replaced with a pout. “Ah’d get started now. Ya don’ want it ta dry an’ stain do ya?”

“Blurr got away.” the red mech offered in mitigation. “No harm done.”

“Except ta his dignity an’ Sunny’s paint.” Ironhide reminded him. “Get scrubbin’ kiddo.”


	8. Beginnings II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A darker one today. This one came to me when I re-read chapter 2.
> 
> I'm working on bits and pieces for the prompts people have given me. The muse is a fickle thing - mine especially!

Fragging pit it hurt!

The pain was like acid dripping over his spark and his screams echoed only in his helm. Shockwave, the monster, had disconnected his vocaliser, along with his motor relays and his optics.

Starscream didn’t know if he wanted to cry, or scream profanities, or curl up to protect his spark, or just purge his tank from the pain. He swallowed the pain and fear as much as possible, trying to calm his frantically fluttering spark.

The fluttering was frightening him, but he refused to acknowledge the fear. Shockwave had done...something to his spark, he could feel it. He didn’t know what, but it felt like the scientist had been trying to carve a piece away. Probably a particularly nasty punishment from Megatron’s foul and fertile imagination. Shockwave wasn’t creative enough to think up something like that on his own.

It really, really hurt.

The fluttering sensation was accompanied by a brush of awareness somewhere on the edge of his consciousness. Starscream knew his trine would be looking for him, he had blocked the trine bond as far as possible, but it obviously wasn’t enough. It was too muted to work out which trine mate it was, but Strascream guessed it was probably Thundercracker.

He stiffened when his audials picked up the door opening and Shockwave’s heavy tread. The impersonal touch that landed on his frame quickly turned painful. His spark was agonising, the pain too much to handle, and his abused sensors forced him into stasis.

When he rebooted he was alone again, Shockwave had obviously finished for the time being. He concentrated on his spark. It had stopped fluttering, and it felt like his plating had been closed up, but it was still sore. His processor throbbed too, and he felt sick. He still wanted to curl up, but his relays were still de-coupled. 

Now that the pain has lessened slightly he could feel a weird emptiness, which made no sense. He loosened the block on his trine bond very slightly, reaching for Thundercracker and Skywarp, wanting reassurance that they were there. Their awareness brushed his, but the hollow, empty feeling didn’t disappear.   
****************************************


	9. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MissSparkles prompted me with this:  
"Here's an idea if you're wanting a prompt, Ironhide gets into danger, maybe he ends up trapped in a collapsed building and when Skywarp finds out, he goes to rescue him instantly."
> 
> Skywarp is loyal, but impulsive and he doesn't always think things all the way through so regrets it afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Beltane everyone!

Skywarp had just landed when he felt the tremor. It was faint but definite. Jazz and Mirage both looked up, worried. Without being asked he took off again, arrowing towards the survey site.

::Are you checking the topography?:: Jazz asked over the comm. 

::Yes. It changed. Fallen.::

::The ground?::

::Yes.::

::Ok...Hang on, Trailbreaker just commed, they are stuck under the rubble.::

::Where?:: Jazz didn’t respond so he sent the message again, more urgently. ::Where?::

::Come back to land please.:: Jazz replied. Skywarp wanted to disobey, but he turned back to the landing point anyway. Jazz had only told him to land, he hadn’t said he couldn’t start planning a rescue. 

He transformed and landed gracefully, heading for the small console that was being used to coordinate the team. Mirage and Jazz were urgently discussing something with their backs to him. He tried to ping Ironhide’s comm.

::Hey kid. We’re a bit stuck, Jazz is working on it, don't worry.:: Skywarp’s wings sagged in relief. The comm didn’t tell him anything about Ironhide’s status, but his caretaker had responded, which meant he was still on-line. Suddenly he realised that the comm had given him Ironhide’s location. He dragged the topographical map up, and compared it to the old map of the barracks complex in his data-banks. 

The survey team were in one corner of the bigger room, he didn’t know how the debris had fallen, but he could make a guess. Jazz turned to say something to him, but he had already activated his warp gate and was through.

Skywarp tucked his wings in as far as possible, but he was in a relatively clear area. Warping into an unknown enclosed space was a stupid thing to do. He knew that, but dismissed the thought, looking around instead for the ground survey team.

::...kywarp, Skywarp?:: He ignored Jazz’s comm. The spy would be angry with him, but he clamped down on that worry.

The three mechs in the team were clustered in the corner. Trailbreaker and Bumblebee were crouched beside Ironhide, and Skywarp realised that his caretaker was partly trapped by a large beam. His lower right leg and right servo were pinned, and Skywarp whimpered involuntarily. Three sets of optics flew to him. 

“Skywarp?” Trailbreaker sounded relieved. “We need to get Ironhide out of here and to a medic.”

“Sky?” Ironhide focussed on him as well, trying to pull his servo out from under the beam. The plating seperated with a sickening crunch, and three of the digits came away sparking as the wires snapped. Ironhide growled, field lashing with pain. “Ya shouldn’t be here kiddo.” Trailbreaker and Bumblebee started trying to lift the beam.

“‘M gonna get y’out of ‘ere.” Jazz was still pinging his comm, but he dismissed it, moving forward to help until Ironhide could grasp the trapped limb with his good servo and free it.

“Frag tha’ hurts!” 

“Can you get us all out?” Bumblebee asked hopefully. Skywarp ran the calculations. It would be well over his safe tolerances, but he could do it. Ratchet wouldn’t be happy about the damage, but at this point Skywarp was going to be in enough trouble so a little more wouldn’t make any difference.

“Yeah.” He grabbed Ironhide’s uninjured servo, and reached for Bumblebee’s arm. Trailbreaker gripped his shoulder and Skywarp opened the warp gate. It hurt, and he clenched his jaw, but kept going, dragging the three mechs with him. He landed on his knees, gasping, with his processor spinning from the sudden energon drain.

Jazz’s peds came into view, but he was suddenly too dizzy and exhausted to be really frightened. The spy put a servo on his shoulder and pushed him to straighten up. His optical sensors glitched, reducing his vision to static and pixels and Jazz was suddenly handing him a small cube of energon. He gulped it down greedily as the Autobot turned and spoke to Mirage. The servo was still firmly on his shoulder. Skywarp tried to move away, but Jazz tightened his grip slightly.

“No, y’gonna stay right 'ere.” The tone was friendly, but Jazz’s field was full of steely determination. A distant part of Skywarp’s processor, the part not worrying about Ironhide, started calculating exactly how angry Jazz was going to be.

“Jazz.” Ironhide’s voice was a bit staticky, but clear enough. “Ya wanna bring 'im ta sit wi’ me?” 

Jazz helped Skywarp to his peds, and he swayed as his gyros tried to recalibrate. Jazz was careful, walking him slowly to where Trailbreaker had propped Ironhide against a large chunk of rubble. Ironhide took his servo when Skywarp had sat down and Jazz finally released his shoulder.  
*************  
Jazz could see Skywarp becoming agitated. Someone had kept a servo on the seeker since he had warped back to the landing zone. Jazz wasn’t so worried about the seeker trying to run, but when he had commed First Aid the medic had warned him to prevent Skywarp using his warp drive again until a medic could take a look. 

It occurred to Jazz that Skywarp was likely to put a different spin on the contact, but he hadn’t really considered it until they were in the medbay and Skywarp couldn’t stop shaking. 

“Y’ok?” Skywarp gave a tense nod, optics focussed on the privacy screen around Ironhide’s berth. First Aid had been quite calm about the missing digits, but had tutted at the crushed leg plating and commed Ratchet. 

Eventually First Aid deactivated the screen and strolled in the direction of the synthesizer, obviously looking to create new plating and struts. Ratchet clapped Ironhide on the shoulder and looked over at Jazz and Skywarp. Ironhide smiled at the black seeker as Ratchet crossed to the berth he was sitting on. 

“Let’s have a look at you then.” Ratchet activated the privacy screen. Skywarp recoiled and Jazz’s grip tightened again. Ratchet’s expression softened. “Jazz, do you want to go and talk to ‘Hide?” Jazz looked between Skywarp and the medic before nodding. Ratchet took Skywarp’s servo and Jazz let him go, slipping through the screen. Ratchet didn’t miss how the seeker relaxed. “I need to give you a scan.” he pulled Skywarp’s servo towards him. “Are you going to behave?”

Skywarp nodded, obediently popping the panel covering his wrist. He didn't like it but he was in enough trouble. Ratchet allowed him to feel how impressed he was before plugging in.

“You’ve blown a few relays and overloaded the main capacitor in your warp drive.” Ratchet told him when the scan finished. “I’m going to need to take it offline while I get the right parts.” He felt Skywarp stiffen. “I’m not going to debate this Skywarp.” He warned, “I’m taking it offline now. Lie back.”

‘M not goin’ t’use it.” Skywarp tried, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. Ratchet sighed, pushing him to lie back and gently moving his arms away. “Please.” Skywarp looked nervous, and very vulnerable. “I’ll be good!”

“I know you’ll be good Skywarp, but it is dangerous for you to have a damaged warp drive.” He stroked one black shoulder. “It might malfunction and cause a serious issue. I’m not letting that happen.” Skywarp looked mulish. “It’ll only be a couple of cycles.” Ratchet moved his servo to the panel beside the yellow cockpit and Skywarp reluctantly opened it. “Good kid. It won’t hurt.”

Ratchet removed the damaged components and spliced a couple of wires in place to bypass the drive. When he was done he fished a packet of rust sticks from his subspace and gave them to the seeker. Skywarp looked very surprised.

“I’m not sure if anyone has said this, but thank you, for getting them out of there.” Ratchet patted his servo. “It was very brave.” Skywarp mumbled something inaudible, not meeting his optics, and giving a little shrug. Ratchet hummed thoughtfully, realising that the seeker was unlikely to be used to receiving praise for rescuing someone. He pinged Jazz and Ironhide with his conclusion. “Nothing hurting?” Skywarp shook his helm. “Good, I want you to have a cube in the next jour to top your tanks up. I also need to make sure you have someone with you tonight, just to keep an optic out for glitches, but we can talk about that with ‘Hide.”

Skywarp jumped to his peds, wings high and tense as Ratchet turned off the privacy field. Jazz was chuckling at something Ironhide had said as Ratchet led Skywarp over. 

“Ya alright?” Ironhide asked, reaching for the young mech with his good servo, and pulling him in for a hug. Skywarp made a vaguely affirmative noise. “Good. I was worried ya’d hurt ya’self.” He nuzzled Skywarp’s helm affectionately. “Thanks fer gettin’ us out of there kiddo. Ah can’t remember if ah said tha’ earlier.”

Skywarp darted a nervous glance at Jazz and dropped his gaze. Ratchet met Ironhide’s optics over the seeker’s helm and nodded. Ironhide huffed a little laugh and settled Skywarp more comfortably against him.

“I don’t want Skywarp to be alone tonight.” Ratchet informed them. “I’m a little bit worried that he has done something nasty that my scan can’t see and I don’t want to risk him glitching with no-one around.” 

“‘M ok!” Skywarp declared mutinously. “Don’ need ‘ny one.”

“And I’m chief medic.” Ratchet reminded him. “And I say that you do. We’ll let you and ‘Hide discuss it, but you…” He pointed at Ironhide whose lips quirked into a little grin. “Are staying right here tonight!” He swept Jazz ahead of him to another medberth and activated the privacy screen, muttering about giving him a check up while he was actually in the medbay.

“Who d’ya wanna stay wi’ then kiddo?” Ironhide asked. Skywarp pouted and Ironhide chuckled.

“‘M not a sparklin’!”

“Ah know tha. So does Rach’, but if he says ya need someone watchin’ f’ glitches then ya need someone watchin’.” Skywarp was still looking sulky. “Trust me kiddo, ya won’t win against Ratch’. It’s better ta have some choice. Now, ya want me ta comm Optimus an’ ask ‘f ya c’n stay wi’ Starscream?”

“Fine!” Skywarp huffed.

“Don’ give Prahm tha’ attitude.” Ironhide warned activating his comm. Dark wings slumped and Skywarp muttered an apology. Ironhide was silent for a click while he commed the Prime, then he sighed. “Sorry Sky, Prahm says no, an’ Prowl an’ Thundercracker ‘re still on Luna One.” He frowned, thinking. “How d’ya feel ‘bout stayin’ wi’ Thrust.” That got him a helmshake.  
*************************  
“I think Skywarp is expecting you to be upset about that little stunt he pulled.” Ratchet mentioned casually as he synced with Jazz. 

“Yeah I think tha’ too.” Jazz huffed a sigh. “Kid was jus’ startin’ t’ stop flinchin’ when I look 'is way as well.” He shook his helm. “‘M not sayin’ I wasn’t mad at ‘im when he disappeared y’know, ‘cos I was ‘till ‘Bee commed t’ say he was there wi’ ‘em. An’ I wish he’d at least told me what he was goin’ t’do.”

“The Decepticons weren’t big on rescuing mechs.” Ratchet reminded him. “Seriously, what do I have to do to get you to take your supplements?”

“Gimme better supplements!” Jazz gave the medic a cheeky grin, and Ratchet made an exasperated noise and smacked his shoulder. “An’ yeah, I know th’ ‘Cons didn’t rescue their own, but I think Sky disobeyed tha’ one a coupla times t’ get Screamer or Thundercracker back t’ their base.”

“It probably didn’t go down too well for him either. Seems like he’s developed a good bond with ‘Hide though, if he’s willing to risk it to rescue him. Kid might be impulsive, but he’s loyal.” Ratchet finished the scan. “If I give you a bit more iron in the mix will you take them more frequently?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“You’d better!” Ratchet huffed, deactivating the screen. Skywarp was still sitting by Ironhide’s berth looking worried. Ironhide hailed Ratchet with relief.

“Hey Rach’, we’ve hit a roadblock. Ah can’t find anyone able ta keep an optic on Sky.”

“Don’ need ‘ny one.” Skywarp muttered. Ratchet pinned him with a fierce glare, and the seeker quailed.

“Y’ c’n stay wi’ me Sky.” Jazz offered, ignoring the way the black wings stiffened. Ratchet looked relieved, but Ironhide’s expression was skeptical.

::Are you sure? He’s not comfortable around you right now.:: 

::I know, but hopefully this will help.:: Jazz sent back with more confidence that he actually felt. Skywarp was very skittish. ::I’ll let him know I’m not angry with him.::

::Just try not to spook him Jazz, please.::

::I won’t.:: Jazz promised. Aloud he said. “D’y’wanna head back t’y’quarters ‘n pick up anythin’ y’gonna need?”. Skywarp nodded. 

“Can ya grab me a coupla data pads too Sky?” Ironhide added. That got another nod, and a little, shy, smile. “Thanks kiddo.”

“I’ll meet y’back ‘ere then.” Jazz said, with a smile of his own.  
***************************  
Skywarp had brought his thermal blanket and a drawing pad, as well as a couple of data pads which he handed to Ironhide. Jazz was nowhere to be seen and Skywarp’s tense wings relaxed slightly.

“Thanks Sky.” Ironhide put the pads on the berth and reached for Skywarp’s servo. “Ya gonna be ok?” Skywarp shrugged and Ironhide gave the servo a little squeeze. “Ya remember wha’ Ah told ya? Jazz won’t hurt ya, an’ ya got my commline if ya need it.”

“Yeah” Skywarp’s agreement was quiet, and Jazz’s entrance forstalled any further reassurance Ironhide could have given.

“Y’ got everythin’ y’ wanted?” The spy asked. Skywarp nodded, expression blank and field pulled in tightly. “‘K, shall we get movin’?” Ironhide squeezed Skywarp’s servo again and released him.

“Ah’ll see ya later Sky.” Skywarp mumbled something which sounded a bit like a farewell and looked over at Jazz. Neither Autobot missed how tense the seeker was, or how he was allowing nothing to leak into his field.

“Come on.” Jazz didn’t take hold of the seeker, trying to remain non-threatening. He shepherded Skywarp down the corridor, chatting brightly about random topics. Skywarp was silent, which Jazz had expected. Dark wings tucked down, making Skywarp as small a target as possible. 

“Here we are.” Jazz stopped outside the door to his quarters. “Come on in m’mech!” Skywarp hesitantly stepped inside, optics darting around for threats. Jazz quietly locked the door behind them.

He turned back to find Skywarp watching him suspiciously with pale optics. Jazz grinned, plating relaxed and field friendly.

“Y’wanna see where y’gonna be ‘chargin’ t’night?” Skywarp nodded, the mech wasn’t a big talker Jazz knew, but he suspected that the young Decepticon would keep his vocaliser muted unless he was pushed. “‘S through ‘ere.”

The room was pleasant, large and airy with two berths. Jazz had taken pains to hide any of the items that might unnecessarily upset the seeker, particularly the restraints usually attached to the berth. Skywarp wasn’t one of his agents after all.

“Rach’ says y’ need a cube, n’ he wants me t’ try th’ new stuff he’s given me. Y’wanna drop y’ blanket in ‘ere?” Skywarp shrugged and put the folded blanket carefully on one of the berths. His drawing pad remained gripped in his servo and he followed Jazz into the main room. The spy began drawing two cubes, half an optic on Skywarp. The seeker was still standing, posture stiff, and data pad clutched to his chest like a shield.

Jazz plumped himself on the big couch and beckoned Skywarp to join him. When the seeker sat he pulled him closer, winding an arm around his waist and handing him the cube. Skywarp was tense and Jazz’s specialised sensors picked up the well hidden terror in his field. He took a swig of his cube, rolling the energon across his chemoreceptors.

“‘S not as bad ‘s I thought. Still sour though!” He nudged Skywarp. “Drink up.”

Skywarp obeyed mechanically, drinking the cube slowly. Jazz could feel how his core temperature had spiked and cuddled him closer until he had finished. Skywarp started to pull away slightly and Jazz debated allowing it.

“Y’ok?” he asked instead and Skywarp froze again, giving a stiff little nod. “Good. Now, I need t’ talk t’y’.” Skywarp’s temperature shot up another couple of degrees with stress. “‘M not upset.” he assured the mech. “I was a bit put out when y’ jus’ warped out wi’out talkin’ t’ me. An when y’ didn’t answer y’ comm, but I know why y’ did it.” He huffed a laugh. “I’d prob’ly’ve done th’ same ‘f I could.” 

Skywarp muttered something inaudible, shoulders hunched. Jazz resettled him more comfortably, keeping his own field calm and friendly.

“‘M not goin’ t’ say wha’ y’did was right. If somethin’ like tha’ happens again y’ need t’ talk t’ me first.” Skywarp was shaking and Jazz started petting his wings. “‘M not angry, I promise, but y’gotta remember y’ part ‘f a team, an’ we don’ leave mechs behind.” He twisted, getting Skywarp to face him and putting a careful servo on his cheek. “I was worried ‘bout ‘Hide an’ ‘Bee an’ ‘Breaker, then y’ disappeared too, an’ reappeared under th’ collapsed buildin’. I was really worried ‘bout y’, I didn’t want y’ t’ be hurt.” Skywarp was looking confused. “I mean it. Y’ part ‘f my team now so I wanna keep y’ safe.”

Jazz pulled the black seeker in for a hug, pushing reassurance into his field. Skywarp was still stiff, but the blank terror from his field had been replaced by bewilderment.

“I don’ think I said thanks did I? Thanks f’ gettin’ ‘em outta there. Tha’ was a really brave thin’ t’ do. I know Rach’ says it was stupid, but brave stuff often is.” He pulled back to look Skywarp in the optic again. “‘K, I’m done. Y’ wanna play Blackspire?”


	10. Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chikyu said: "Please introduce the science bots to Starscream, he needs a hobby! Idle hands etc., one that can be supervised by bots on or near his level , as Prime is obviously ill-equipped to handle his charge’s intelligence level short of 24/hr babysitting. Plus Starscream and Wheeljack together would cause some still much deserved stress to certain bots, and if SS actually kept an explosion from happening by catching one of WJ’s mistakes it would go a long way in improving his attitude: i.e. if he was praised for his skills, instead of being underestimated and punished for them. My take on it at least!"
> 
> I'm not sure if this is exactly what the prompt was asking for, but it is a start for Starscream at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeljack is a menace in a lab!

Starscream was already in a dreadful mood when Optimus told him he would be staying with Ratchet while Optimus attended an Autobot command meeting. Starscream had treated him to a high volume rant about how he (Starscream) didn’t require a fragging sparkling-sitter, which devolved into a litany of complaints about the current situation, how bored he was and how stupid the Autobots, and Optimus in particular were.

Optimus nodded, made soothing noises, and when Starscream had finally wound down and was glowering at him asked mildly if he was ready to leave.

He caught the data pad that was flung at him and took two quick strides across the room to take the seeker by the shoulder.

“Calm down.” He could feel Starscream’s fury and fear battling for dominance. “Ratchet offered to have you this cycle so you wouldn’t get bored.” Starscream scoffed. “He did! He also wants Sunstorm to spend some time with you.” Optimus patted his shoulder before letting him go. “Now, are you ready to go?”

Starscream didn’t respond verbally, but he hunched his shoulder and snarled crossly which Optimus could translate as reluctant agreement. He steered the seeker towards the door, hoping that the little tantrum would have cleared the air enough that the walk to Ratchet’s quarters would pass without incident.  
*********************  
Starscream was surprisingly well behaved on the walk, only trying to break Optimus’ grip three times. Optimus wasn’t sure it would last past the young mech getting into Ratchet’s quarters, but the medic was easily capable of controlling a single fractious seeker. 

Starscream attempted to wrench himself out of Optimus’ grip when the call buzzer was pressed, but the Prime simply grabbed the top edge of the closest wing and the seeker stilled, growling.

“Behave.” He released the wing and Starscream shook it out, flaps and panels flexing. 

Ratchet opened the door, giving his leader a nod as the two mechs entered. Sunstorm was standing behind him, and gave Starscream a small, shy smile. Starscream wrestled his own expression out of the angry sneer into something more neutral.

“Are you leaving immediately Prime?” Ratchet asked. “I’ve got a couple of reports for the meeting which ‘Aid will need. I just need to download them to a pad.”

“I can stay for ten clicks.” Optimus offered, “I’ll give them to First Aid.”

“Thank you.” Ratchet turned back to the console, patting Sunstorm’s wing as he passed. The gold seeker was shyly looking at his peds. “Sunny, why don’t you get some treats for our guests.”

“Ok.” Sunstorm headed for the dispenser, pulling things from the cupboards and returned juggling rust sticks, and gelled and crystalised energon pieces. He offered the crystalised pieces to the Prime first.

“Thank you Sunny.” Optimus opened his facemask and gave the young mech a broad smile before popping a piece into his mouth. He offlined his optics making a pleased noise. “These are my favourite. Thank you. Can I take a couple for the meeting?” Sunstorm offered the packet again wordlessly and the Prime took two more pieces, popping them into a compartment in his forearm. “Thank you.” 

Sunstorm turned to Starscream, offering the treats again. Starscream looked them over critically before reaching for a gelled energon strip.

“Thank you.” Starscream murmured, voice just carrying to Sunstorm’s audials. Sunstorm’s field bloomed with pleasure and he shyly ducked his helm.

“Here’s the data pad.” Ratchet announced, coming back over and putting a servo on Sunstorm’s shoulder. He handed the data pad to Optimus, who subspaced it, and snagged a rust stick.

“I’ll make sure First Aid gets this.” Optimus promised. “Now I need to go.” He turned towards Starscream. “Try to behave Starscream, please.” The white seeker snorted, but didn’t say anything. “I’ll take that as agreement.” He looked back at Ratchet. “Thank you, I’ll see you later.”

Ratchet locked the door behind the Prime and turned to the two seekers.

“So, what would you like to do?”  
***************

Sunstorm had been too much in awe of Starscream to suggest anything, and Starscream had refused to entertain any of Ratchet’s proposals. The medic suspected the mech was being deliberately difficult. 

“Sunny, do you want to show Starscream your chemistry data pads?” He asked, scrabbling for ideas. Sunstorm perked up, but Starscream kept his expression blank.

“Ok.” The younger seeker immediately headed for his room, returning with some pads which he shyly presented to Starscream. Starscream took them with the slightly indulgent air of someone humoring a sparkling, obviously expecting to be bored, but the two quickly became engrossed in discussing energon chemistry.

Ratchet watched them carefully. Starscream was showing more excitement and animation than he’d ever seen before. The youngster was probably bored of being supervised so closely, despite Optimus’ heroic efforts to keep him engaged and occupied. When Sunstorm turned hopeful optics on his caretaker Ratchet shrugged and waved them towards the little chemistry set.

The two seekers crowded around the counter, wings fluttering, excitedly debating what to make. Ratchet set the dispenser to fill two cubes, and took a step back, not wanting to disturb them. Starscream seemed happy, measuring and mixing the chemicals, and Sunstorm was bubbling with excitement.

When Sunstorm ignited the reaction Starscream gave a completely involuntary chirr of appreciation. Ratchet didn’t laugh. The young seeker would probably be happy in a lab, but Ratchet knew he would need careful supervision. He also knew how upset Red Alert would be with the idea.

He kept pondering the problem as the seekers worked, ignoring the filthy look Starscream gave him when Sunstorm offered him one of the treats. Starscream had clearly never learned to share. He made sure to allow both mechs to feel his enjoyment when he tasted it. Sunstorm’s field was proud, but Starscream’s was confused before the white seeker pulled it in tightly.

Not used to being praised then. Ratchet pondered that carefully.  
************  
Starscream had kept tight hold of his little bag of treats, and growled at the Prime when he had suggested that they could share them. 

Starscream was NOT going to share something he had made thank you!

The Prime had given him a puzzled look, but not done anything. Starscream really needed somewhere safe to store the bag, and ended up hiding it among the pillows on his berth. It wasn’t great, but it would do for the time being.

“Do you want to go to the labs tomorrow?” The big Autobot asked suddenly. Starscream looked at him blankly for a clik. He did want to go to the labs, and not just because there was a chance he could find some tools there. He was very bored of being led around by the Prime, “helping” with desk work. He’d enjoyed messing with the chemistry set, and debating with Sunstorm. Not that he was going to let the Prime know.

He just shrugged instead. He didn’t want to give the Autobots any ammunition they could try to use against him. The Prime made his disappointed face, field faintly sad, and still oddly free of any anger. It still baffled Starscream.

“Ratchet said Sunstorm enjoyed working with you.” The Prime continued, fishing for a reaction. Starscream kept quiet. “I bet he’ll be pleased to see you.” Starscream flicked a wing. He did want to work with Sunstorm again, the kid was a good chemist, and Starscream would have liked to train the younger seeker. 

He risked a quick glance at the Prime, wanting to gauge whether he was making a genuine offer. The Autobot was watching him, and gave a little smile. Starscream snorted.

“Fine. If I say yes will you stop bothering me?” He refused to let the Prime think he was eager.

“If that is what you want, then of course.” The mech smiled more broadly at him. “Come and sit with me and we’ll watch something.”  
************

Starscream was enjoying himself. He was careful to keep any hint of it out of his field and off his face, but he was honestly happier than he had been for a long time. He and Sunstorm had fallen into a good pattern of working which had more than doubled the solvent production. 

Perceptor had been impressed, and had even told them so. Starscream had accepted the praise with a shrug, but was silently pleased. The little scientist would doubtless take the credit when anyone commented, but Starscream told himself he wasn’t interested in the Autobots knowing that he had improved their processes.

Especially not the Prime, who would probably take it as a sign he was actually warming to life in Autobot captivity.

He wasn’t! And he certainly didn’t need the Prime’s approval. Starscream had been down that route with Megatron and he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Starscream frowned when the Autobot engineer with the tendency to make things explode came into the lab and made a beeline for Sunstorm. His frown deepened when Sunstorm greeted the mech with a happy smile and even allowed the Autobot to pat him on the shoulder. He would need to warn the sparkling about allowing grounders to get too touchy feely. He had seen where that led, and it wasn’t pretty.

The white seeker watched the mech carefully as he greeted Perceptor and the minibot geologist (who Starscream thought was called Beach-something) and then made his way towards Starscream. He wished he still had his claws free, because he couldn’t see any other way to defend himself. He backed off when the mech approached, slightly surprised when the Autobot stopped outside grabbing range.

“Hi Starscream, I’m Wheeljack.” The unusual vocal indicators flashed a cheerful blue. Starscream scowled and pulled his own field back from the friendly brush that Wheeljack extended. The mech gave no reaction to his deliberate rudeness, but Sunstorm gave a questioning chirp in sparkling Vosian. “I’m going to help you with the solvent for a couple of jours.”

Starscream shrugged, but kept his optics on the engineer, unwilling to turn his back. He flicked his wings at Sunstorm, wanting to reassure him. Wheeljack turned to the workbench and made an interested sound.

“This looks different! What are you doing?” He turned to Starscream first, who just scowled. Wheeeljack looked at Sunstorm instead, who ducked his helm shyly and mumbled an explaination. Starscream ground his denta, he could see Perceptor watching the little by-play and glared at him until he turned away.

When Sunstorm finished Wheeljack patted him on the shoulder again and looked back at Starscream. “That makes so much sense. Now you’ve said it I don’t know why we didn’t do it this way from the start.”

Starscream snorted, not surprised in the slightest. He started measuring the chemicals again, servos busy but he kept an optic on Wheeljack who was now standing between him and Sunstorm.  
************  
Wheeljack thought that Starscream had relaxed fractionally by the time Hotlink had arrived. Relaxed was a relative term because the wide white wings were still held high and his plating was still clamped tight, but he had stopped flinching when Wheeljack in-vented loudly or moved a little too fast.

Optimus wanted him to try scanning the kid’s coding, but Wheeljack knew Starscream was a long way from being comfortable with that.

Hotlink grinned at Wheeljack when he walked in, waving a cheery farewell to the guard who had accompanied him. Wheeljack beckoned him over. Sunstorm gave his fellow seeker a smile, and Hotlink detoured to wrap a friendly arm around his shoulders.

“How ya doing kiddo?”

“We made lots of solvent today.” Sunstorm admitted.

“Smashed the quota as well.” Wheeljack chimed in. “Starscream figured a great way to improve the process.”

Hotlink nodded at Starscream, wings canted respectfully. “Commander.”

“Hotlink.” Starscream nodded back, his own wings flicking. Wheeljack thought the two seekers were holding a second, silent, conversation. Neither was likely to tell him what they were saying, but Sunstorm might.

Hotlink turned back to Wheeljack. “Do you want to get started? I was wondering if we keep the temperature constant and try crystalising it.”

“That could work.” Wheeljack tapped his mask thoughtfully. “Let’s give it a go.” He and the purple seeker headed for the end of the workbench and Hotlink looked at the heating coil, tutting.

“That needs to be better for a start. It’s never going to create an even heat spread.” Wheeljack handed him a screwdriver and the two began to disassemble the coil, genially arguing about hotspots and dissipation. Wheeljack enjoyed working with the seeker, who was as enthusiastic about gadgets as he was.

The two were lost in their own little world when Starscream darted over and pulled Hotlink away by a wing. Wheeljack turned, wanting to ask the younger seeker what the frag he thought he was doing when the test mixture exploded. Wheeljack felt the heat scorch his reinforced back plating. Starscream had pulled Hotlink far enough away that neither seeker was injured and was berating the older mech in a series of angry sounding clicks.

Perceptor and Beachcomber came over, both looking worried, and Perceptor attempted to gently detach Starscream. Sunstorm was backed against the wall, looking nervous. Wheeljack opted to go over to him, wanting to sooth the youngster. Behind him Starscream was now berating Hotlink and Perceptor, but had switched to Cybertronian Standard.

“Are you ok Sunny?” He asked, seeing the shaking wings. Sunstorm straightened and his wings stilled. He nodded, expression neutral. “You sure?” That got another nod. “Ok.”

“Wheeljack!” Perceptor called, and the engineer turned. His fellow Autobot was looking harassed, as well he might after a harangue from Starscream. Even without his signature screech the mech had an acid glossa. Hotlink had a rueful expression, Wheeljack recognised it as one he usually wore when confronted with Ratchet after a particularly bad explosion.

Now he thought about it Starscream’s expression and posture was eerily familiar too. Ratchet didn’t have wings of course, but the folded arms and furious expression were the chief medic to the life. He managed not to cringe by an effort of will.

“Starscream thinks you shouldn’t have added the hydroxyphenol while the mixture was heating up.” Perceptor looked skeptical, but Starscream scoffed.

“I don’t ‘think’, I know. Honestly, that was the most astonishingly stupid idea. Seriously who taught you chemistry?”

Wheeljack had a sudden flash of sympathy for Starscream’s fellow Decepticons. The white seeker’s tone was angry and sneering, and it made Wheeljack bristle in irritation. His back plating flared, and he winced, reminded of the scorched metal and melted wires.

“I hope you are not planning on teaching Sunstorm your sloppy work habits.” Starscream carried on, apparently oblivious to Wheeljack’s irritation. “Why are you even allowed to play teacher? Which idiot thought letting you loose in a lab was a good idea?”

“Optimus Prime.” Wheeljack felt compelled to respond.

“Well that figures!” Wheeljack shuttered his optics, cycling his vents to calm himself. Starscream was trying to make him angry and he wasn’t about to allow that. The seeker was young, and frightened, he just had to remember that. 

“Wheeljack you need to go to medbay and get that damage looked at.” Perceptor ordered him calmly. Wheeljack was about to protest because Red Alert was very adamant that there needed to be at least one Autobot for every Decepticon in the lab when the door opened and Optimus entered.

Starscream growled at him, but the big mech approached anyway. No-one missed how Starscream tensed and hissed. The Prime didn’t react, looking at Wheeljack instead.

“Again? Wheeljack...just, go to the medbay, I’ll talk to you later.” 

Wheeljack glanced at his fellow scientists for help, but Perceptor was scowling at him, and Beachcomber had turned away and was working at his own bench. He huffed, and complied, hoping that Ratchet wasn’t in the medbay.

Optimus glanced at Perceptor, but Starscream launched into a rant about irresponsible Autobots putting everyone at risk. Optimus allowed him to vent his irritation, listening calmly. Perceptor looked like he wanted to get a word in, but was sensible enough to allow Starscream to wind down. 

“Prime, I’d like Starscream to work in the lab more frequently. He is completely correct that our safety precautions are...not as good as they should be. Another set of optics would be helpful.” Optimus nodded in agreement, putting his servos on Starscream’s shoulders. Starscream’s field was confused. 

::Are you sure?:: Optimus asked over the comm. ::I'm positive he just suggested you are not doing your job properly.::

:: I'm sure.:: Perceptor gave a little shrug. :: I admit I get lost in whatever I’m doing and don't always notice what is going on. I get the impression Starscream really cares about safety. Plus he is used to command.::

“That could be arranged. If Starscream is willing?” Optimus said aloud. He paused, waiting to see if the seeker would respond, but there was silence.

“It would be helpful Starscream.” Perceptor’s voice had a hint of hope in it. “You’ve already prevented what could have been a dangerous situation, and facilitated an increase in productivity for solvent.”

“More solvent?” Optimus asked. “That’ll please Smokescreen and Thundercracker.”

“Starscream redesigned the production process. The efficiency is up seventy two percent.”

“That is impressive!” Optimus allowed the sincerity into his field, and felt Starscream become more confused. “It would be helpful if you would agree to work in the lab more often.”

Starscream was silent and Optimus decided not to push further, aware that Starscream was likely to refuse on principle. He decided to change tack.

“Are you ready to leave? I thought we could stop by Ironhide and Skywarp’s quarters.” Hopefully that would reward the seeker for his success without making him feel condescended to.

“Ugh, fine!” Starscream stomped towards the door. Optimus caught up with him, putting a restraining servo on his arm.

“I’ll swing past the medbay and check Wheeljack actually showed up.” Optimus said over his shoulder as they left. “And if the rest of you can try not to create any more explosions I would be grateful."


	11. *Pout*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirva said "I would love to see pouting seeker ( if possible Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp) and the line "That was my rust stick!""
> 
> Then my muse ran away with it, giggling madly. And this was the result - enjoy!
> 
> *Note to self : Don't let the muse have any more sugar, or alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff!

Skywarp was happy to admit that rust sticks were his favourite treat. Crystalised energon was nice enough, and gelled energon was good provided it wasn’t covered with sour magnesium, but rust sticks were the best.

It wasn’t just the texture, and it wasn’t just the taste but somehow they combined to make something extra special.

Ironhide teased him about it, and laughed when he pouted, but his caretaker took care to keep a small tin of rust sticks by the dispenser. 

Ratchet had offered to show him how they were made. Skywarp wasn’t entirely sure about that. The Autobot medic had obviously not heard the story of what had happened when Starscream allowed him to assist with a chemistry experiment. Suffice it to say the enormous mess, while amusing to create, had not been fun to clean up, especially with Starscream blistering his audials for the three jours it took.

That little incident had resulted in the two of them having a massive fight lasting a full eight cycles. Starscream’s attempt to drag Thundercracker into it had caused their trine mate to relocate to the other side of the planet. 

On the other servo the ability to make rust sticks would mean he would have a permanent supply, and right now that was looking very tempting.

Thundercracker absentmindedly took another rust stick from the packet, before passing it to Starscream. Skywarp could see that there were only two left and his trine leader selfishly took both.

Skywarp pouted at the empty packet in Starscream’s servo, and at Starscream crunching both rust sticks. The white seeker’s optics were trained on the screen which was playing an old Cypertronian drama. Skywarp’s pout became more pronounced and he stared down at his own servos.

“That was my rust stick!” he muttered to himself.


	12. Etiquette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waaaay back when I was finishing Another Deception Chikyu said "Wouldn’t mind seeing a mandatory flier etiquette class being given to the grounders, since in this universe the bots didn’t have fliers, and now they have a bunch, and most Autobots don’t know a wing from a thruster unless it’s to cause pain. Something like “Living Peacefully with/Next to Seekers”. Some basic dos and don’ts would probably go a long way in getting the seekers to chill out."
> 
> I liked the idea, but wasn't sure how to write it. Then my muse threw me some inspiration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to CheerfullyMorbid for the great job beta'ing this. :)

Jazz had the idea of a class to train the Autobots to work with seekers. He had organised one before, for the mechs scouting the ruins to get them ready to work with Skywarp. Ironhide had provided some do’s and don’ts about how to treat the young seeker and it seemed to have worked. Skywarp was surprisingly comfortable around Jazz’s team. Comfortable enough to have what passed for a conversation with Hound.

Ratchet had already briefed the medical staff about Bitstream. The ex-slave was reasonably calm, but Ratchet had warned his fellow medics to keep their servos to themselves, and telegraph the movement if they had to touch. Bitstream was also twitchy about mechs sneaking up behind him, so Ratchet had instructed that they needed to keep their optics open to prevent any accidents.

With the addition of five older seekers, or realistically, four older seekers plus Nacelle, (he was not really ready to participate in anything that involved grounders) and another who was still a sparkling, there was a need for a larger class on seeker etiquette.

The low number of seekers worked to their advantage, at least, because the mechs working with them could be informed about their individual quirks.

Ultra Magnus had arranged for the training in one of the larger conference rooms, and had packed it out with as many Autobots as he could schedule. The expressions of the attendees ranged from blank (Mirage, Red Alert), to interested (Wheeljack, Perceptor), to angry (Cliffjumper, Gears).

“Thank you all for coming.” Optimus gave the audience a smile, ignoring the mutter of “not like we had a choice!” from somewhere in the middle of the crowd. “As you know, we have a number of seekers in custody who we want to parole, but we are aware that they present some unique challenges.” Ratchet gave a little snort at the understatement. “I know some of you have already met or started working with some of them. But we want to establish some ground rules for everyone.”

“You are all aware that some of the seekers are younger than we thought.” Ratchet took over. “We have one who is still only a sparkling and six who are Bumblebee’s age or slightly younger.” There were nods from around the room, that information had been quite widely spread. “I’m going to take you through some basic tips for dealing with them.”

Ratchet queued up the display behind him which had some basic language tips.

“Some of the younger mechs don’t have all the language software they need.” He gestured to the display. “They tend to be quieter and respond with monosyllables. Use short, simple sentences, but try not to talk down to them.” Ratchet quirked a smile. “Starscream and Sunstorm have full language packs, and if I hear anyone swearing in front of Sunstorm there will be trouble.” A nervous chuckle spread through the room. “If you need to write things for them the same rules apply, keep it simple. Remember that they are very unlikely to ask for clarity.”

Wheeljack raised a servo. “Are they going to get the missing programming sorted?”

“We hope so.” Optimus responded. “It will be up to them of course, but they will be asked to consider it.”

“The next thing is physical contact.” Ratchet continued. “For now we advise you avoid it as much as possible unless they initiate it or it is absolutely necessary. If you have to touch, servos, arms and shoulders are best.” He gestured to the display which showed an outline of a seeker coloured in different shades. “Top edge of the wing is acceptable if they know you well, but if they get uncomfortable back off. Areas marked orange or red you should keep your servos away from.”

“What if they touch us first?” Sideswipe asked.

“It is unlikely that they will,” Ratchet responded. “Icestorm and Hotlink, and possibly Acid Storm might, if they know you well and trust you, but none of them are comfortable with casual touch at the moment. If they do, though, the same rules apply.” He paused, thinking. “Remember they all have very sharp claws. If they act on instinct and take a swipe at you because you got touchy-feely, I’m not going to be impressed.”

“Should all be locked up if they’re going to be dangerous!” Cliffjumper snapped. Ratchet glared at him, and Optimus held up his servos in a placating gesture.

“If you listen to what Ratchet is telling you, that won’t be an issue,” he reminded the minibot. “Trust me, they all have battle grade claws which will do a lot of damage.” He looked around, nodding at the medic, who sat back down. “That neatly brings us to the next point. I expect every Autobot to avoid deliberate confrontation with any seeker.”

“What if they start it?” Springer asked. Optimus knew the big triple changer had butted helms with Thrust on a couple of occasions. Kup had been able to diffuse the situation, but Springer had a notoriously short temper.

“Then I expect you to take a step back and not respond.” Optimus fixed the younger Autobot with a stern look. “A lot of the aggression from the younger seekers is because they are frightened.” He sighed. “We have a little bit of information about what happened to them, and what they were expecting from us.” He signalled to Prowl, who nodded.

“It pains me to say this, but the seekers have very good reasons not to trust Autobots,” Prowl announced solemnly. “They were all told that capture by the Autobots would lead to torture, grounding and slavery.”

“That is not exactly surprising,” Mirage noted calmly. “Most of the Decepticons we have in custody indicated that that was what they expected.”

“Regrettably, that expectation was grounded in reality,” Prowl said. He kept his face expressionless as the room exploded into sound around him. There were a lot of denials and quite a lot of anger being expressed. Prowl held his servos up for silence. “I felt the same,” he assured them, “We all did. But the old senate and the previous Autobot leadership did things which I do not think any mech in this room could countenance.”

“It is true,” Optimus cut in, quieting the mutinous muttering. “And I wish it wasn’t, but the old senate and even the Primes were involved in enslaving the seekers of Vos. We have evidence to suggest that fifty percent of the indentured servants in Iacon were Vosian born, and forty percent were Kaonites or Tarnians.” 

“Some mechs might argue that they weren’t slaves,” Prowl added, “but when a mech is not free to do what he wants, live where he wants and associate with those he wishes to, I’m not sure we can state that that is not slavery.”

“Worse,” Optimus announced, because he wanted to get the most distressing part out of the way. “We now know that previous Primes, particularly Sentinel, kept actual slaves. Mechs they had purchased, and used as they liked.”

This time the outburst was even louder and angrier. Some of the mechs who had served under Sentinel Prime in the early days of the war were incensed. The officers remained silent, allowing the noise to drop naturally.

“I’m afraid it is true,” Prowl confirmed solemnly. “We have two ex-slaves among the seekers. So you can all see why their trust is unlikely to come easily, or at all.” His optics swept the room, taking in the range of expressions. “There is also evidence embedded in our own files that the Autobots were responsible for the bombing of Vos, and an attack on the survivors, many of whom were sparklings and non-combatants.” He held up his servos again as a third wave of outrage rolled through the room. “Please realise we are as unhappy about this as you are, but the files are there, and they are fairly conclusive. They also fit with what the seekers in custody have told us.” He paused, lipplates set in a grim line. “The Autobot cause has a lot to answer for.”

Ultra Magnus stood as Prowl sat, allowing the mutters to die away again, before queueing up a series of pictures of the seekers and basic details about each.

“These are the mechs we are trying to re-integrate…”


	13. That Which is Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady_Frost asked "I have a question, how's Nacelle and his trine doing? Like are they still worried that OP may try and "claim" them one day? Or did they just stop worrying about it or like did something happen with Optimus that made them realize they were safe? IDK man I just think about Nacelle a lot and just want him to get some help :("
> 
> I wasn't sure how Nacelle could be brought to trust the Autobots, but they will try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nacelle, as it turns out, is a sneaky, sneaky mech!

Nacelle had managed to injure himself badly this time. Bitstream was making worried noises as his trine mate’s pain and fear was leaking through the trine bond. First Aid had been dispatched to the detention block to triage the situation and sedate the seeker. Ratchet disliked the necessity, but reluctantly acknowledged the lack of other options.

Nacelle’s utter uncooperativeness towards the simplest requests of his captors was understandable, but he surpassed even Starscream in making himself difficult, and Ratchet acknowledged that the young mech had set the bar extremely high.

::Ratchet?:: First Aid’s comm made him pause where he was coding more sedative chips. ::It looks like he has shattered the struts in one of his wings.::

::Frag.:: Ratchet frowned, that would mean they needed to keep Nacelle in the medbay for a couple of cycles. ::Is he in much pain?::

::I’ve given him a pain patch on top of the sedative chip. He seems pretty out of it. Hopefully it will last until we can get him into the medbay.::

::Understood.:: Ratchet disconnected the comm, trying to decide whether to bring Bitstream in. Ordinarily he would not allow the seeker to work on his trine mate, but Bitstream was unquestionably the expert on wing injuries. His expertise was balanced by the inevitable stress it would cause. Stress which could manifest unpredictably.

Nacelle would need to lie on his front while the shattered wing struts healed, which would be difficult. The only way Ratchet could see to ensure compliance would be to chain the seeker to the berth, which he really didn’t want to do. Unfortunately Nacelle had form when defying Autobot requests.

Ratchet finished the sedative chip intended to push Nacelle into stasis so they could work on him without issue. They would need to perform the operation, and keep Nacelle in the secure medbay, so he opted to head there and check everything was ready.  
************  
Nacelle was barely conscious on the stretcher when he was brought to the medbay. Bitstream was at his side immediately, crooning reassurances. The Decepticon medic was, by his own account, used to taking care of his trine mate when he was in the medbay. 

The navy seeker had been laid on his front, damaged wing lying limp. Bitstream held one of Nacelle’s servos as he was carefully moved to a medberth. Ratchet handed him the stasis chip and the other seeker gently detached the sedative and plugged the new one into the port at the back of Nacelle’s neck. Nacelle’s too bright optics flickered offline, and the swirling stress and fear in his field faded. Bitstream relaxed as his trinemate slipped into stasis.

“Are you alright?” Ratchet asked. “You don’t have to do this if you are going to have a problem.” 

“I’m fine.” Bitstream lifted his chin and shook his wings out. “I’m still the best mech to do the repair.” Ratchet’s mouth quirked in a little smile, Bitstream might not have been a classically trained medic, but he had certainly developed the positive attitude.

“Ok then. Are you still happy for me to assist?”

“Yes.” Bitstream had reached for the damaged wing, stretching it out and gently rapping the surface to test the struts. Ratched upped the gain of his audials, hearing the change in pitch when Bitstream tapped the area over the damaged struts. “I think we will need to take the plating off across most of the main wing surface.” Bitstream began unlatching the plating, removing it piece by piece, and detaching the fine wiring from the sensors until the internals of the wing were exposed.

Ratchet looked closer, logging the structure for future reference. He had studied Starscream’s wings when he had been replacing the sensors, but hadn’t removed all the plating and seen the internals displayed like this.

“That looks bad.” Three of the four struts were broken, and the fourth was slightly warped. The topmost struts showed the worst damage, one was shattered into three pieces and the other was broken in half with two jagged cracks in the pieces. The lower strut was badly cracked. 

“It is bad.” Bitstream agreed. “Would you keep the tension on the bottom of the bent strut. I want to pull it back into shape.” Ratchet grunted, grasping the strut as indicated, feeling the metal straighten.

“Do you think it will need a brace?” Ratchet enquired, running his servo across the strut. He could feel the tell-tale imperfections caused by microfractures and frowned. “That might need magnet therapy.”

“He doesn’t do well with wing braces.” Bitstream responded. “Sentinel was over fond of wing locks and it is...difficult...to distinguish the sensations.” He picked up a microwealder and began repairing the cracked strut. “Anyway, it’s not likely that he’s going to be flying any time soon - is it?”

Ratchet didn’t answer. He didn’t really have one. Anything he could say would be a platitude which Bitstream would resent. 

Bitstream confined the rest of his remarks to requests for assistance and Ratchet respected his clear wish not to talk. He did send a comm to the guard who would be collecting the seeker at the end of his shift to ask that Bitstream be allowed to spend time with Hotlink. He tagged the same request to Red Alert as a medical requirement. Hotlink would be better placed to help Bitstream with the inevitable issues that this would stir up.  
************  
Nacelle came out of stasis to the groggy, floating feeling produced by a strong pain patch plugged into one of his medical ports. He tried to swipe at it, but his servos were chained to the berth, keeping him lying on his front. He struggled but he was weak from the coding.

“I see you’re online.” A voice came from somewhere off to his left and he started yanking at the chains, spark whirling frantically in panic. The mech moved around to his field of vision. Red and white plating and medical glyphs were the first thing he noted, closely followed by the lack of wings. He struggled harder. “Easy.” The medic stretched out a servo, but didn’t touch. “Stay calm.”

Nacelle didn’t want to submit to this grounder, not without a fight, but he was chained face down to the berth and very vulnerable. He kept struggling and the medic tutted.

“Bitstream will be here soon to check your wing. Until then can you tell me if you are in any pain?” Nacelle growled, although he could feel the dull ache starting in the struts of his injured wing. The grounder waited, but he kept silent. “Very well, I’ll leave a pain patch here for later. If I take the restraints off will you stay lying down until Bitstream comes?” Nacelle growled again and the medic sighed. “Alright. I’ll leave you there and Bitstream can let you up if he thinks you are going to behave.”

The medic left and Nacelle relaxed slightly, he knew better than to trust that his trine mate would be allowed to see him, but being alone gave him more time to plan his escape. His servos were chained, but his thrusters were free. If Bitstream really came to see him, his trine mate wouldn’t chain him up again. The grounders would, but they would want him on his back, not his front. If he could keep his servos free, he could get himself out.

He resolutely refused to think about what the grounders would do to him, chained to the berth and helpless.  
************  
Bitstream cycled his vents before unlocking the door to the secure medbay. Ratchet had warned him that he had left Nacelle chained to the berth on his front. Bitstream knew why, of course, and even agreed. If Ratchet had allowed Nacelle free rein of the medbay he would have caused a lot of damage, to himself as much as to his surroundings.

Nacelle’s field was rolling with emotion, fear, pain and disgust. Bitstream understood the fear and disgust although he couldn’t do anything about it. The pain however he could solve.

“Nacelle?” He called, and his trine mate stiffened.

“Bitstream?” Nacelle asked, sounding incredulous. “What…? How did you…? You’re here, how?”

“Ratchet told you I was coming didn’t he?”

“Ratchet?” Nacelle sounded confused.

“Autobot Medic? White and red? Grumpy and sarcastic?”

“There was a grounder here.” Nacelle said slowly, “And he was wearing medical glyphs.” That didn’t mean the mech was a medic of course, any seeker could tell you that.

“That was probably him. He’s… very determined.” Bitstream came closer. “Can I check your wing? And do you want another pain patch?”

“I suppose so.” Nacelle sounded grudging, but he was suddenly craving his trinemate’s touch. He had gone too long without either of his trine. Bitstream rested his servo between the dark wings, silently asking permission to continue. Nacelle deliberately relaxed into the touch, and the medic unplugged the old pain patch. The new code downloaded and the throbbing agony across his damaged wing eased. 

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

Bitstream stroked across his back then moved up to the damaged wing, checking under the plating.

“Can I scan you?”

Nacelle was silent for a second. He didn’t want a medical scan, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah.”

“It won’t hurt.” Bitstream promised. “The Autobots are giving me some proper training.” 

Nacelle stiffened when Bitstream plugged in, but his trine mate was true to his word and it didn’t hurt.

“It looks like it is healing fine.” Bitstream commented. “Ratchet is going to want you staying here for a couple of cycles though.” He quirked a grin “But it means I can see you more for a bit!” 

“Can you let me up?” Nacelle asked when the medic disconnected his cable. He pulled at the chains around his wrists for emphasis. “I want to sit up at least.” Bitstream obviously had the code for the cuffs because there was a click and the manacles loosened allowing Nacelle to pull his servos free. He pushed himself up and pivoted to sit on the berth, or tried to. He overbalanced, the pain patch making his gyros spin. Bitstream caught him before he fell from the berth.

Nacelle draped himself over his trine mate. Bitstream was surprised, Nacelle was seldom this cuddly, and it usually took a significant amount of high grade, or injury to both his trine mates. 

“I missed you.” Nacelle admitted, voice soft. “Stay with me?”

“I’ve missed you as well.” Bitstream draped his arm over Nacelle’s back, petting the hinge of his good wing. He kept the digits from creeping higher, the bottom edge of their wings had been one of Sentinel's favourite spots. The sensitivity guaranteeing a reaction.

They stayed snuggled together for almost a jour before Nacelle’s plating started to clamp tight and he began to shift slightly. Bitstream released him with a touch of reluctance and Nacelle gave him a sad smile.

“Sorry. I’m getting...well...you know.” He looked away.

Bitstream did know, only too well, but it still hurt. He swallowed it, giving a little shrug instead. “I should probably get back to work.” He admitted reluctantly. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah.” Bitstream wasn’t sure he believed that, but he didn’t comment.

“Try and stay lying on your front, and don’t move your wing.” He instructed instead. “I’ll come and check on you before I leave.”  
************  
Nacelle was deliberately cooperative, lying quietly on his front with dim optics as if he was almost in recharge. He was actually planning his escape. Bitstream had checked on him as promised, and the Autobot medic had appeared afterwards to offer him a pain patch. No-one had made any move to replace the chains since he was so calm.

He had refused the pain relief, even though his wing was becoming sore again. Another pain patch would impede his ability to get away. The medic had shrugged and let him be, promising another visit in a few jours.

Nacelle heard the lock click behind him, but was not especially worried. He was the mech who had taught Starscream how to hack locks after all! Still he stayed lying on the berth, from what he had seen the medbay was quite quiet, but he might have to run for the main door.

After twenty clicks he slipped from the berth and moved silently to the door, audials on their highest setting. He could hear the faint murmur of conversation from behind the door, it died away and there was the noise of a door closing. The main medbay door if Nacelle was any judge. Stomping grounder pedsteps crossed the space and there was the scrape of another door opening. Nacelle’s advanced triangulation software calculated the angle of the sound. The door had not closed, but it sounded like it was at right angles to the main medbay. A mech in that room would be able to see the whole place at a glance.

Nacelle reached for the lock. This was probably the best chance he was going to get, clever digits worked at the code pad until the lock clicked. He froze, listening, but there was no sound from beyond. 

He opened the door, audials and sensors on high alert. There was still nothing from whoever was in the medbay, so he peered out. It was empty, but as he had suspected there was another door with a good field of view, and its door was open. 

There was a mech inside. Nacelle could hear the tapping of a stylus against a data pad. Hopefully whoever it was would be concentrating on whatever they were doing and not what was happening in the medbay. 

He inched forward, thrusters soft on the floor. His time with Sentinel had taught him to move silently. Swiftly he passed the open door and scurried through the medbay entrance into the corridor. 

There was no sound of pursuit.

Sensors on alert he set off down the corridor.  
************  
Starscream was digging his thrusters in again. Optimus resisted the temptation to growl in frustration. He stopped instead, swinging the white seeker around to face him.

“Starscream, do I need to pick you up and carry you?” He threatened.

“You can try Autobot!” Starscream snapped back, face set into a sneer. “And you will regret it!”

“Starscream.” Optimus sighed, servo’s on the young seeker’s shoulders. “Please just be sensible. We are nearly back at our quarters.” Starscream made a disagreeable noise and Optimus resisted the urge to shake the younger mech.

A sharp in-vent and the sound of running peds made both mechs look up. Optimus caught a glimpse of dark wings disappearing around the corner. At first he thought it was Skywarp, but the wings were navy with a red trim. There was only one seeker with that colour scheme, and he was supposed to be in the brig.

Optimus made a lightning decision, letting go of Starscream with a sharp “Stay there!” and took off in pursuit of Nacelle. Behind him he could hear the white seeker start running in the opposite direction. He had to prioritise, Starscream had a tracker and was fitted with stasis generators, Nacelle was not. Optimus sent a general comm to all Autobots in the area, requesting assistance.

There was a clatter from up ahead, and a shriek of pain. Nacelle had turned the corner too fast and caught his wingtip. He had also run into a dead end and was backing into the corner, claws flexing and field frightened.

“It’s alright.” Optimus stretched out his servo and Nacelle shrank into himself, pressing his wings against the wall and trying to back up further. “It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you.” The seeker’s fear was dizzying and untempered by the anger that characterised Starscream. There was pain there too which made Optimus come closer. “What hurts?” Nacelle whimpered, claws retracting and entire frame shaking.

When the seeker offlined his optics and allowed his mask to open Optimus realised he was seeing the ex-slave’s learned response to the presence of a Prime. The horror of it nearly stole his vents, but he could see the way one of Nacelle’s wings hung wrong. The seeker needed to be in the medbay.

He reached for the mech, gathering him up carefully and lifting him up. Nacelle sobbed softly, but didn’t offer any resistance. Optimus murmured soothingly as he carried him. The sobbing and fear didn’t abate, and the dark plating relaxed sickeningly. 

Before Optimus could become too disturbed by the seeker’s behaviour Jazz pinged his comm.

::Boss bot. I’ve caught Screamer.:: Optimus could hear the truth of that echoing down the corridor. Starscream was not being quiet in his displeasure. Nacelle was crying harder and the Prime tried to calm him.

::Can you take him back to my quarters Jazz.::

::Sure thing. I’ll even stay and keep him out of trouble.::

::Thank you.:: He considered reminding his third in command not to upset the younger seeker, but from the shrieking it was probably too late for that. It would be something to worry about later. For now Optimus had a mech expecting him to take advantage to reassure.

He carried the seeker into the medbay, laying him face down on the closest berth. Nacelle kept sobbing, helm buried in the pillow.

“Fraggit you flying idiot!” Ratchet sounded exasperated as he activated the privacy screen. His expression softened slightly when he looked down at the mech on the berth and he stroked the uninjured wing. “Why do you seekers have to be so difficult? Now I’m going to have to check all the wealds.”

Optimus watched Ratchet working, stroking Nacelle’s servo and using the matrix to amplify his field to surround the upset mech in a calming, soothing sensation. Nacelle kept sobbing, trembling frantically.

Finally Ratchet had finished and plugged a new pain patch into Nacelle’s system. Optimus could feel Nacelle fighting it, but he dropped into an uneasy recharge. Ratchet met Optimus’ optics as he looped a chain around Nacelle’s thruster, pinning him to the berth.

“Before you say anything, he was locked in the secure medbay.”

“I didn’t doubt it.” Optimus assured him. “I just...I realise we need to find some way to help him.” Ratchet touched his arm, and he allowed his mask to slide back to give the medic a tired smile. “We’ll think of something.”

“It might be worth seeing if there is a mech who could take him as a caretaker. I know he’s not a youngling, but he needs to learn to trust us.” Ratchet gave his leader an equally tired smile. “Bitstream has let a couple of things slip about what they went through.”

Optimus hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll ask around. Thanks Ratchet. Look after him.” Ratchet rolled his optics in a friendly manner and the Prime chuckled slightly. “I’d better get back to my quarters, I’m hoping Jazz and Starscream haven’t murdered each other.”

“Good luck.”  
************  
There was no shouting when Optimus reached his door, in fact there was an ominous silence. He took a calming in-vent and opened the door.

He had to re-set his optics. Far from having to clear up a battlefield Jazz was curled up around Starscream on the couch, lying half on top of the white seeker, one servo apparently playing with his wings. Starscream himself had his optics dim and appeared to be nearly in recharge.

“Heya Boss bot.” Jazz murmured, not moving from his position on the couch. “Y’catch th’ seeker?” Starscream made a little noise of protest and Jazz shushed him, saying something too softly for Optimus to catch.

“Yes…” Optimus came closer, trying to gauge the mood of the two mechs tangled together. Starscream was actually relaxed, and Jazz was smugly amused, and not bothering to hide it. “Jazz, what’re…”

“Come’n sit.” Jazz said, making a bit of room. “Star’s promised t’behave, haven’t y’ sweetspark?” Starscream hissed softly at the spy, who chuckled and did something that Optimus couldn’t see to Strascream’s wings.

Jazz shuffled them around so Starscream was cuddled into Optimus’ lap. The seeker protested and started to struggle slightly, but Jazz was lying on him again murmuring an instruction to behave, and that it was Optimus’ turn for a cuddle. Starscream relaxed against his caretaker with a confused sounding grumble.

“Jazz.” Optimus said softly, not wanting to disturb the seeker. “What did you do to him?” Jazz’s field became even more smug as the Prime gave him a stern look.

“I tol’ y’ Star’n I had a history yeah?” Optimus nodded. “Well it wasn’t under th’ best circumstances, but I learned a lot ‘bout ‘im, n’ wha’ y’c’n do t’ a seeker tha’s panicking. Or t’ calm ‘em down when they’re upset. Plus ‘f course I’ve got all th’ stuff I use f’ my own agents.”

“Like?” Optimus prompted.

“Few tricks o’th trade.” Jazz hedged. “Star’s no’ th’ first mech havin’ a tantrum I’ve had ta control. Got ‘im standin’ wi’ his servo’s ‘gainst th’ wall fer fifteen clicks while I worked t’ relax ‘im.” Jazz looked uncertain for a moment. “Didn’t think it would work t’ be honest. It shouldn’t ‘ve. He’s got some baggage.”

“He tests me.” Optimus admitted. “He has a lot of tantrums.”

“Figures.” Jazz shrugged. “Kid needs boundaries. I think he’s testin’ y’, tryin’ t’ push y’ ‘till y’ snap.” He stroked Starscream’s thruster. “Give ‘im guidelines an’ a clear punishment f’ goin’ over ‘em.” He quirked a little smile. “‘S what I do wi’ my mech’s.”

Starscream muttered something and chirped sleepily, clearly most of the way in recharge. Jazz stroked his thruster again, and Optimus watched his third in command thoughtfully. An idea was starting to develop.  
************  
“Jazz?” Prowl asked, tapping his digit against his lower lipplate thoughtfully. “You think he and Nacelle would be a good fit?”

“I think Nacelle needs a caretaker.” Optimus temporised, “And I think Jazz has the skill set to help him.”

“Nacelle will have a hard time.” Prowl pointed out, ever reasonable. “He’s really not capable of social interaction.”

“I know, but we can’t keep him locked up.”

“No.” Prowl gave his leader a half smile. “Do you want to tell Jazz, or shall I?”


	14. New Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WilyMech said "I think a scene with a new spark just emerges and have the Autobots and Decepticons freaking out will be amusing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was suggested that I have Acid Storm and Icestorm as the hapless parents, but I couldn't make them co-operate, so I picked someone else. :)
> 
> Just a short one this time.

“Oh Primus! You idiots should NOT be allowed to breed!” Ratchet was going for volume, as if by sheer noise alone he could drum some sense through the notoriously thick helms possessed by Autobot front liners.

Hot Rod cowered against the berth, apparently hoping that he could make himself inconspicuous. Springer took two paces back, servo’s held placatingly in front of his chest.

Bitstream and First Aid were watching the little drama unfold at the edge of the privacy screen. First Aid was looking panicky and flustered, but Bitstream was looking amused. Nervous, because Springer was big mech, but amused.

Ratchet turned on Hot Rod, who looked ready to jump off the berth and run.

“You! Lie down. You!” He whirled on Springer “Out!” One red digit jabbed in the direction of the medbay door. Springer practically sprinted out. Given that Ratchet had just given both of them the unedited, blow by blow account of the how to of sparkling creation, and had promised them the rundown of sparkling care as well, it was not surprising.

First Aid snuck out to join his traumatised friend. Some of what Ratchet had said had been new to him as well, despite his training. Bitstream came closer when Ratchet beckoned him.

“Are you going to be alright with Bitstream taking a look as well?” Ratchet asked in a gentler tone, seeing how Hot Rod’s optics were a bit bright. His irritation had obviously scared the younger Autobot. Hot Rod looked at them both, but nodded. Ratchet patted his shoulder. “Good kid. Come on, lie down and let us see them.”


	15. Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zatnik suggested I write about "Starscream earning that respect back in the day / their reaction when a child was put in command of *everyone*."
> 
> And I thought "what a good idea".
> 
> Enjoy!

Airbrake looked at the casualty list sadly. Too many mech’s lost. Too many of his seekers deactivated.

A name caught his optic. Redwing.

Frag!

His second had been one of the very few military trained seekers left and the only one in a complete trine. Redwing’s right wing, Typhoon was on the critically injured list as well, but Liftoff, the left wing, was unharmed. Typhoon and Liftoff were Vosian military as well, but neither was suited for command, even if the circumstances had been different. As it was they would either both need some time to recover from their trine leader’s deactivation, or Liftoff would need vorns to cope with the loss of both his trine mates.

Airbrake tried to think about which of his remaining seekers he could trust as his second in command. None of the other military seekers were suited to the position, but the adult civilians would be even less capable. Acid Storm had a strong leadership style, but he could be hard, and judgmental, Cloudracer was too deferential, Slipstream had just lost a bonded trine mate and was slipping for lack of a stabilising influence, and the rest...Well they were merchants, teachers and entertainers.

Not soldiers.

He was not trained for this. He had been a lowly captain for Primus’ sake. A frontline soldier especially. Redwing had been a tactician, and good at spotting potential in other mechs. It was mostly due to his efforts that the Decepticon airforce functioned as well as it did.

Airbrake was going to miss him. 

He needed a tactician, a seeker capable of poking holes in his plans, of steering him in the right direction.

Someone who could take over if...when...he was deactivated.

Redwing had been the only adult seeker capable of filling that position, but there were too few of them left. He was going to have to start putting the sparklings on the front lines.

He turned the youngsters designations over in his mind. Too many were missing vital programming. Too many didn’t even have trine mates yet. Too many could not even speak Standard. 

There was only one who really stood out - Starscream. The kid had a full trine, and all three younglings were sky blessed with rare spark gifts and had been modded to use them. He didn’t want to do it, but he had to.  
************  
“Starscream?” Blacksun asked, surprised. “Kid’s only two hundred vorns! You can’t be serious?”

“Really ‘Brake? I know I said I’d support you, but...Starscream? Come on. Why not his trine mate? Thunder...err...Thundercracker? He’s got a hundred vorns on the youngling. Or better yet what about one of ADULT seekers in this dammed army?” Lightspeed was becoming worked up. Airbrake knew his left wing was prone to losing his temper, and a minor tantrum seemed to be imminent.

“I don’t have a choice.” Airbrake admitted. “We don’t have anyone else. Yes Thundercracker is older. So are Thrust, and Ramjet, and a dozen others. But they don’t have what it takes to lead us.” He quirked a half smile at his trine mates. “Starscream has the talent, the leadership skills and the intelligence. With training and support he will be a far better Air Commander than me...If he survives.”

“If he survives.” Blacksun echoed scornfully. “And how do you expect him to do that, if you push him to the front?”

“I don’t know.” Airbrake’s wings sagged. “But I have to try...For Vos.”  
************  
The whispers started almost immediately. 

The seekers were silent on the matter, most of the adults disapproved, of course, but they understood, and rallied around their commander’s choice. Starscream was young, but the flock of Vos would support their own, as it had always done.

The rest of the Decepticon Airforce muttered speculation about the upstart seeker with the short temper who had suddenly been promoted to stand next to the Air Commander as his second.

The ground troops gossiped openly about the pretty white seeker with those sharp wings and handsome face. Airbrake’s newest toy, they said. And who wouldn’t want to play with something so lovely.

The commanders sneered that this new seeker was just like the others, flighty, and unpredictable. He was an unknown quantity, and untrained. Redwing had, at least been a soldier, but this mech was not one who had been tested much in battle.

High command looked thoughtful. Shockwave calculated the odds of the mech surviving long among the ambitious Decepticons. The low probability made him shrug, even if he had the capacity to be surprised he would not have been. Soundwave watched and learned, and what he learned made him watch more carefully.

Megatron smiled, and his optics lingered on shapely wings and thrusters.

And Starscream watched and listened and learned and obeyed.

Until Kalis, and the chaos that followed the battle.


	16. Arguement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirva gave me the prompt:   
"Now I am imaging Ratchet and Starscream angrily facing off and cursing in different languages, some other Autobots watching surprised, interested or amused, till one of them says something stupid and draws the wrath of both Ratchet and Starscream, they decide to team up and everyone knows there are in trouble..."
> 
> I don't know if I have managed to capture what you were imagining Mirva, but Starscream is not known for his co-operation.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to CheerfullyMorbid for the beta.

“Don’t be such a stubborn little brat!”

“Stubbon? That is a bit rich coming from a mech who refused to back down from fragging MEGATRON because he was trying to save someone. Who later DIED, by the way!”

Ratchet had quickly passed through sweet reasonableness, across rational argument via sensible debate, and was now scaling the lower slopes of raised voices. The conversation was heading south with some speed and Starscream was starting to become petulant. Nonetheless Ratchet tried again, lowering his own voice.

“You need to recharge, Starscream. Please try.” It was time to try and get the conversation back on track. Starscream was very good at derailing it.

“No.”

“Why?” Ratchet could feel his good intentions fray in the face of such intransigence. The question was a reasonable one. Starscream had apparently stopped recharging four cycles previously and Ratchet had a strict six cycle policy on recharge deprivation. 

Starscream pouted, and Ratchet expelled a long sigh.

“You are an idiot...” He didn’t get a chance to clarify the statement because Starscream started shouting in earnest.

“I’m an idiot, ME?? You, you...” The rest of the sentence devolved into gutter level Andarian which Ratchet had no trouble translating as aspersions on his medical skills. He responded in Inixol with a rant about badly behaved sparklings which caused the white seeker to snarl and switch to insults about Ratchet’s looks.

“Very mature,” Ratchet said smugly, which made Starscream shriek and lunge towards the medic.

“That is enough, Starscream.” Optimus moved swiftly to intercept the young mech, catching him by a wing and pulling him back. Starscream shrieked again and attempted to kick his caretaker.

“So now I can’t look after myself? Is that it Optimus?” Ratchet turned on his leader as well. “I can’t hold my own against one recharge deprived seeker?”

Optimus held up his free servo in supplication.

“You are an IDIOT!” Starscream snapped, rounding on the Prime as well. “Get your fragging servo OFF me, you pulled my wing you...you oaf!”

“Honestly Prime, how can you be so fragging clumsy?” Ratchet slapped the servo still holding Starscream and pulled the seeker to turn so he could see the wing in question.

“Sorry.” Optimus backed off, slightly surprised to have been on the receiving end of the sharp side of both mechs’ glossa.

Ratchet tutted and finished his inspection of Starscream’s wing. “No harm done,” he assured the white mech. 

“Good!” Starscream snapped, giving his caretaker a nasty look. Ratchet chuckled and patted Starscream’s servo, before pressing a rust stick into it.

“Just try to recharge, alright? You’re coming straight back here next cycle and I’m going to check. I will take steps if you don’t.” Ratchet’s voice was calm, but Optimus could hear the steel determination behind every word.

“Ugh, FINE!”

“Good kid.”


	17. Sparkling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Copperace said "Poor Starscream, I'd love to see more of what he thinks of Sunstorm and what the Autobots say about him being Sunstorm's carrier in an interaction."
> 
> This isn't an interaction, but I've managed to figure out what Starscream thinks about Sunstorm!

Sunstorm was a good kid. It was the opinion of all the surviving seekers. A bit idealistic, it was true, but he hadn’t been exposed to the nasty reality of the war.

Not like the other young seekers had.

The thought was oddly distressing, Starscream found. To see in Sunstorm the mech he could have been.

To see in...his sparkling.

That was an uncomfortable thought.

He wasn’t cut out to be a parent. In the most private corners of his processor, he felt he was barely cut out to be a commander and he had had vorns of training.

The Prime and the medic had both assured him that they didn’t expect him to care for Sunstorm. They had also promised not to tell anyone. Not that he believed them. 

He tried to sort out how he actually felt about the situation, but the best he could come up with was simply ‘confused’. He knew he was angry at Shockwave for doing...whatever the scientist had done to force his spark to fission. And even angrier at Megatron, because the old warlord had obviously been the one to order Sunstorm’s creation.

He pitied Sunstorm. The situation wasn’t his fault, after all. He actually quite liked the kid, truth be told. Sunstorm was well trained and respectful, more so than most of the rest of the Decepticon army. Megatron had seen to it that Starscream received scant respect from most of his faction.

If he really dug down into his feelings, not something he was fond of doing, he knew he was ashamed. Ashamed of what had happened to him, that he had been unable to protect himself.

The shame had stopped him talking to his trine when Shockwave had released him, and stopped him talking to them now. He wasn’t sure how Skywarp would react, and Thundercracker would probably be disappointed. He didn’t enjoy his trine mate’s disappointment.

He knew he should be grateful as well, to Acid Storm and Icestorm, for looking after Sunstorm, but he didn’t feel anything like that. He was happy that the kid had a trine, naturally, but he knew he was supposed to be grateful. He wasn’t ungrateful, but that was it.

Sunstorm had a trine...that was good, but that was it. No deep feelings of affection for the younger mech. No more protectiveness than he felt for any other member of his airforce.

Starscream was not sure if this was how he was supposed to feel for his sparkling.


	18. Should, Could, Did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I saw something on tumblr about a prompt to write what should happen, what could happen and what did happen in a situation.
> 
> I can't find the post any more, but it sparked an idea so here it is.
> 
> Impeccably beta'd by CheerfullyMorbid!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put a bit of an infodump about the games I keep mentioning in my fics and how I think they work on my tumblr. Same username as A03

Should  
Optimus knew what should have happened when Starscream had a nightmare. Or at least, what he wanted to happen.

Starscream’s distress should have woken him before the situation got too bad so he could calm the seeker before he onlined. 

If he had been unable to get to the young mech before he woke, then Starscream should have trusted him enough to accept comfort. Optimus would have held him and soothed him for as long as it took for him to settle back down and go back to recharge. He was prepared to sit by the seeker’s berth or on the couch to make Starscream happier.

He would even have allowed Starscream to curl up with him in Optimus’ berth, although it was a distant possibility that Starscream would ever willingly come to him for comfort like that. 

But Starscream should have trusted him to help. And it hurt that he didn’t.  
*************  
Could

If Optimus had just rebooted a little bit quicker he could have done something more effective. He wasn’t totally sure what, but he could have done something.

The best thing would have been to get the seeker settled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and given him some sweet energon. To have encouraged him to talk and tell Optimus what the flux had been about.

It would be good if Starscream could be encouraged to talk about his trauma. Optimus knew he could help the seeker if he could only get him to open up a bit. Starscream refused to even consider speaking to Smokescreen or Ratchet about what he had gone through. Optimus hoped that Bitstream could be a sympathetic audial when the medic was a little more settled, but he wasn’t sure that the medic wouldn’t confirm Starscream’s fears.

Optimus would have felt better if he could have caught Starscream before he bolted, and just sat with him. He could have bundled the seeker securely in a blanket and allowed him to rage, and snarl and swear at him.

But he hadn’t. And he felt guilty.  
************  
Did  
Starscream had bolted from his berth before he had fully rebooted and slammed through the berthroom door, catching his wingtip on the frame. Optimus had started leaving it unlocked, allowing his roommate a little more freedom. Starscream needed the sense of security and if he could supply it by leaving the door unlocked, Optimus would do it.

The clatter of metal against metal and the sharp sound of pain from Starscream were what had woken him. This bad flux had been much quieter than normal. Starscream’s shrieks and whimpers were usually what woke him.

“Starscream?” Optimus asked from the doorway. He couldn’t see the seeker, but he suspected Starscream was behind the couch. It was his default hiding place when stressed. Optimus had made sure to keep some cushions down there so Starscream wasn’t sitting on the floor. “Are you alright?”

There was a soft sound of distress, but no answer. Optimus crossed to a chair and settled down, positioning himself to keep an optic on Starscream’s hiding place. There was silence and Optimus found himself drifting back into recharge as he waited.

The ping from his chronometer woke him several jours later. The door to his quarters was closed, and the silent alarm wired to his comm system had not been set off, but there was no sign of Starscream. Optimus stood and stretched before peering behind the couch. Starscream was curled up uncomfortably in the small space, apparently in recharge.

Optimus toyed with the idea of waking the seeker, as one white wing was twisted in a way he was sure would hurt. He decided to move around the space getting energon instead. Starscream would be happier if he didn’t on-line with Optimus looming over him.

He made no effort to be quiet, and was rewarded with shuffling sounds and a soft whimper of pain from Starscream’s hiding place.

“Starscream? Do you want some energon?” The shuffling stopped for a click, then Starscream started to emerge. Optimus gave him a smile and offered him the unopened cube. One of Starscream’s wings was held at an awkward angle, and his expression was suspicious.

He finally took the cube and Optimus gestured to the couch, motioning him to sit. As was his habit Starscream perched on the edge.

“Drink that, and I want to take a look at your wing afterwards.” Starscream’s expression hardened. “Is that going to be alright?”

“No.”

“Starscream.” Optimus kept his voice calm and reassuring. “I can see from here that your wingtip is bent.” Starscream shifted, trying to keep the damaged wing out of Optimus’ view.

“I’m expected in the lab,” he responded, grandly. Optimus shook his helm.

“I’ve already commed Perceptor to tell him you are not coming to the lab this cycle.”

Starscream made a strangled noise of outrage. “You had NO right…”

“I have every right, Starscream. I am your caretaker, your wellbeing is my responsibility.” He reached for Starscream’s servo, and the seeker jerked back with a hiss of fear. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He held his own servo out, palm up, waiting for Starscream to come to him. “You’ve had very little recharge and your wing is obviously hurting you. You are always talking about needing a clear helm to work in the lab.” He tried a little smile as Starscream edged closer. “Do you want to comm one of your trine mates and ask them to come and keep you company?”

He reached for the seeker again, coming closer and gently turning him so he could see the injured wing. Starscream was stiff and still frightened, and Optimus’ spark gave a little lurch.

Starscream had been badly abused by too many mechs. There was a lot that Optimus should, or could do to help him, but as his digits gently moved over the injury he knew that it was what he actually did that would make the difference.


	19. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a prompt from Tiamat1972 who suggested "I don't know if there's anything like a kid's birthday party on Cybertron but I'd like to see all the Seekers and their guardians having a small celebration of sorts for Sunstorm."
> 
> This prompt made me d'awwwww at the cuteness, it had to be fluffy really!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't quite the written equivalent of candyfloss, but it might be sherbet.

Optimus had encouraged some of the old Cybertronian holidays to be resurrected. Cybertron was healing. It was slow going, most of the planet was still uninhabitable, and there were deep divisions between the Autobots and the neutrals, let alone between the Autobots and the Decepticons.

The festival of Prima’s Blessing was a nice, uncontroversial one. A celebration of new life and resurrection was exactly the sort of thing Cybertron needed.

There were not many sparklings or carriers on the planet yet, of course. A few neutrals had younglings, but it was more the representation of hope that the festival stood for. Ratchet was actually rather looking forward to it.

Sunstorm might look like an upgraded adult, but he obviously wasn’t. He’d never had a chance at a normal sparklinghood, like all the young seekers, and had a troublingly adult outlook. Ratchet would have loved to change all that, and would have done so in a sparkpulse had he been able to. Sunstorm wasn’t used to mechs simply being there for him, and didn’t seem to understand that Ratchet would give him attention if he wanted it. The poor kid had been thrown into life as a soldier, and had learned obedience, and that his needs were not a priority.

He was certainly not used to parties and socialising, but Ratchet hoped to change that. 

The festival of Prima’s Blessing had historically been a time for parties. Ratchet fondly remembered them from his own youth where all the local sparklings and their carriers and caretakers would gather for the celebration. He remembered playing sparkling games and the rare treats offered.

None of the young seekers were likely to get much out of the sort of games most grounders were brought up with, but Ratchet was confident that the treats would go down very well.  
*************  
Ratchet had explained the festival to him, Sunstorm had been intrigued, but not quite sure about the idea of a party. He remembered the occasional celebrations on the base. He had never been to ones in the grounder barracks, but he had been made to help clean up afterwards and there had been a lot of broken furniture and weapons discharge.

The gatherings in the seeker barracks had been much quieter. Soft conversation and, if they were lucky, a bit of high grade (which Acid Storm had forbidden him from trying). Usually his trine mates would send him away after a while and tell him to go to recharge in the air barracks. He understood that they sometimes needed to be alone together, even if he didn’t get why. 

Once he remembered Thundercracker, who had been back on Cybertron for some reason, had come with him and they had sat on the berth together and the blue seeker had told him stories.

He would never have told his trine mates, but he actually found parties a bit boring. 

Sunstorm vowed not to let Ratchet know either, so when a party was mentioned he nodded and smiled. He didn’t really mind sitting around while Ratchet talked to other mechs.

Ratchet didn’t say anything further about the party for several cycles, but Sunstorm got the impression of things being done that Ratchet wasn’t telling him about. He was desperately curious, but knew enough not to pry. Being too curious, and asking the wrong questions never led anywhere good. 

Ratchet was actually surprisingly good at answering questions, but Sunstorm wasn’t keen on testing his caretaker’s patience by asking too many, especially frivolous ones.

Ratchet had asked him whether there was anything he wanted, and he had tried to think of something. He had come up with the idea of asking for some data pads. When Ratchet had asked what sort of thing he wanted to read he had requested some theoretical chemistry pads which he knew Acid Storm would enjoy, and some mystery stories which Icestorm had once wistfully said he missed reading.

Ratchet had given him an unreadable look when he had explained, and opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but closed it again and asked if there were any data pads he (Sunstorm) particularly wanted.

Sunstorm missed having a full copy of the Covenant of Primus, and Arclight’s Commentaries, but he knew Ratchet was not a believer, so he kept quiet. His own copies had corrupted patches which made them hard to read. He wasn’t sure what data pads Ratchet might want. Fortunately Ratchet left that line of questioning and asked if he needed any polish. He didn’t - and the question made no sense because Ratchet knew exactly how much polish they had. It was the basic polish from the lab, but Perceptor had given him a fresh tin from the last batch they had made just three cycles ago.

Then Ratchet asked if he had everything he needed for the little trinkets he made in his spare time. Sunstorm had been breaking down the bits he had made previously into new pieces, and Wheeljack sometimes gave him snippets of wire and broken crystals. He didn’t have anyone to give the jewelry to, so there wasn’t much sense in asking for more. He didn’t want to clutter Ratchet’s quarters with unnecessary junk after all.

Ratchet had seemed a bit upset with his answers, which also made no sense to Sunstorm. But when he had tried to apologise the Autobot medic had pulled him in for a hug and assured him he wasn’t upset. Sunstorm had dropped the whole subject after that.  
************  
Ratchet had carefully planned the party in an attempt to maximise Sunstorm’s enjoyment, and minimise any stress for any of his guests.

Given that known stressors included the combinations of Starscream and Thrust, Skywarp and Thrust, and Starscream and Ramjet, plus the presence of Optimus Ratchet’s planning skills were likely to be tested.

Sunstorm himself seemed slightly bewildered by the idea of a party given for him. Ratchet had explained (twice in fact), but the kid didn’t really get it which was a bit daunting. From Sunstorm’s description of the sort of parties Acid Storm had allowed him to attend Ratchet thought he understood. Sunstorm hadn’t said he had found them boring, but Ratchet was more than capable of reading between the lines.

Optimus and Starscream had arrived first. Starscream was wearing his usual expression of extreme displeasure, but when Optimus nudged him towards Sunstorm he modulated it to something slightly less angry. Over the seeker’s helm Optimus rolled his optics at Ratchet in a surprisingly eloquent manner, before going to greet Sunstorm himself.

“Happy Primaii Sunny.” Optimus handed him a data pad decorated with a scrap of metallic foil. Sunstorm took it, looking confused. “It is a gift.” Optimus explained pleasantly. “It is traditional on Prima’s Blessing to give them to younglings.” Sunstorm looked like he wanted to dispute the description of himself as a youngling, but Ratchet shook his helm at him and Sunstorm dropped his optics.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Do you want to look at it?” Sunstorm carefully removed the foil, offering it back to the Prime who shook his helm. “No no, it’s for you.”

“Thank you.” Ratchet took the foil from him, watching with interest as Sunstorm switched the pad on. The seeker looked sharply at him when the introductory page showed it was a copy of the Covenant of Primus. Ratchet gave him a reassuring smile.

“I know Ratchet doesn’t have a copy.” Optimus explained, “But I thought you’d like a new one.” He took in Sunstorm’s poleaxed expression and pulled the young mech against him in a hug, dropping his voice. “I found the nicest copy I could in the data banks. It has some beautiful illustrations.”

Sunstorm’s vents hitched slightly, and his voice had a tiny tremor when he thanked the Prime for the third time. He gave Ratchet a slightly anxious look, but relaxed when the medic gave him a little smile.

“We can sit and read that together later.” Ratchet offered, Sunstorm looked surprised and Optimus chuckled.

“I know how you feel, he is an unrepentant heretic.” Optimus opened his mask to allow his broad, teasing grin to be seen. Ratchet huffed, and lightly smacked his leader on the arm.

“And you are a cheeky brat.” He looked back at Sunstorm. “Both of you are in fact.” The chime of the door interrupted any response Optimus might have made. Ratchet snagged Sunstorm to answer it and the Prime tugged Starscream to sit on the couch.

Skywarp and Thundercracker were at the door, with Ironhide standing behind them. Skywarp pushed a thin, flat package towards Sunstorm, who took it, looking surprised. Skywarp wouldn’t meet his optics. Thundercracker handed him another data pad and he looked up at Ratchet for permission.

“Lets go and sit down and you can show everyone what you got.” He ushered the three seekers towards the chairs. Thundercracker baulked slightly at the sight of Optimus, but Skywarp pulled him around so he and Starscream were between the blue mech and the Prime.

“Oh, what have you got there Sunny?” Optimus asked. The young seeker unwound the plastic film coating Skywarp’s gift to reveal a thin metal sheet with a carefully painted planetscape. “That is beautiful! Your work?” The Prime asked, glancing over at Skywarp who was looking at his servos.

“Of course it is.” Starscream huffed, frowning at his caretaker, Thundercracker and Skywarp tensed beside him, but Optimus just chuckled.

“Where are you going to put it Sunny?” He asked, turning back to Sunstorm.

“Um…” Sunstorm looked up at Ratchet imploringly.

“You can put it wherever you want.” Ratchet assured him. “It is beautiful Skywarp.” The black seeker wouldn’t lift his optics, and Ironhide patted his shoulder, murmuring something that sounded like “Told ya”. “What’s the data pad?”

Sunstorm activated it, and his optics widened when he saw the title. “Thank you.” he said, softly and sincerely. Thundercracker wouldn’t look at him.

“Can I see?” Ratchet asked. Sunstorm handed it over silently. “Ooh, that looks interesting, are they stories from Vos?” He directed the question to Thundercracker, who shrugged and made a faintly affirmative noise. “We’ll have to read them as well!” He passed it back, and Ironhide gave Sunstorm another data pad.

“Happy Primaii. Ratch’ said ya wanted some mystery stories.” The red Autobot smiled at the slightly overwhelmed expression on Sunstorm’s face, and gave him a quick pat on the wing. 

“Thank you.” Sunstorm repeated, cringing internally at how inadequate the words felt.

“Ya welcome.” Sunstorm felt like he should say something else, but Ratchet was offering their guests a tin of treats.

Optimus moved to assist Ratchet, and Starscream took the opportunity to tug Sunstorm to sit between him and Skywarp. Sunstorm could feel the curiosity/interest/nervousness in the fields of all three of his fellow seekers.

“Are you alright?” Thundercracker clicked in sparkling Vosian. Sunstorm flicked his wings in a clear yes. Starscream relaxed slightly and pulled a small pack of rust sticks from the compartment in his forearm.

“This is for you.” Sunstorm opened his mouth for another totally inadequate thanks, but Starscream gave a quick, negative wing twitch. “Don’t, just keep them somewhere safe. They’re for you, not anyone else.”

“Put ‘em in there.” Skywarp tapped his forearm and Sunstorm obeyed. Thundercracker was watching the Autobots and gave a little warning chirp as Optimus turned back with the treats in his servo.

“Do you want some of these?” Skywarp and Thundercracker both immediately looked at their trine leader. Sunstorm looked at Starscream as well, the habit of obedience to the former air commander still very strong. Starscream cautiously flicked a wing, and Skywarp relaxed slightly and nodded. Optimus offered him the tin and the black seeker inspected the contents critically.

Skywarp selected a gummy gelled treat which Sunstorm thought might have a liquid centre and handed it to Thundercracker, then picked out a crystalised shard glittering with gold which he handed to Starscream before selecting a ball of crystalised energon for himself.

“How about you Sunny?” Optimus asked. “There is a really nice copper one.”   
************  
Ratchet surveyed the little group with some satisfaction. Ramjet and Sunstorm were playing some sort of cartoonish fighting game. Thrust was seated beside his trine mate chirping in a way that Ratchet interpreted as encouraging.

Thundercracker and Dirge were apparently listening to one of Kup’s stories. Dirge was curled into Inferno’s side, keeping very still and quiet. Inferno had suggested that the young mech suffered from chronic shyness and Ratchet was inclined to agree. Thundercracker seemed interested in whatever Kup was saying, wings perked and optics intent. Kup was obviously happy to have an attentive listener. Prowl had mentioned that Thundercracker was writing more since his language programming had been upgraded.

Optimus had challenged Skywarp to a Blackspire match. Ratchet could see that the black seeker was a very good player. Starscream was hovering over his trine mate. Skywarp himself actually seemed quite relaxed. 

He turned back to Ironhide who was also watching the scene.

“Good party Rach’. Sunstorm looks like he’s enjoyin’ himself.”

“He does. He’s a good kid.” The medic’s optics moved back to the youngest seeker as Ramjet let out a little crow of excitement, his computer sprite having beat Sunstorm’s. Sunstorm handed the controller to Thrust politely and stood to allow him to take his place.

Sunstorm wandered over to Ironhide and Ratchet, accepting a swift hug from his caretaker.

“Do you want another treat Sunny?” Ratchet gave him a fond smile when big gold optics looked hopeful. “Go on then. Why don’t you offer them to your guests as well?”

“Ok.” Sunstorm gave him a smile and grabbed the treat tin, rummaging for the treat he wanted before offering them to Ironhide and Ratchet. The Autobots both took one, and Sunstorm took the tin around.

“He’s not really been to many parties.” Ratchet confessed, optics tracking the gold frame.

“Ah get th’ impression parties wi’ th’ ‘Cons were more like one o’ Jazz’s unsanctioned raves from wha’ Sky’s said.”

“Acid Storm kept Sunstorm on a pretty tight leash. I think the sort of parties he is used to were a bit dull. There weren’t many seekers on Cybertron.” Sunstorm had reached Kup, and was offering the little group the tin. Thundercracker patted the space beside him, clearly inviting the younger mech to join them. Satisfied Ratchet looked back at his friend. “That was a gorgeous picture that Skywarp gave him.”

“Sky was a bit worried ‘bout it. ‘s far as Ah c’n tell he thinks tha’ ‘cause he is jus’ copyin’ wha’ he sees it’s not proper art.” Ironhide shook his helm. “Kid’s no’ keen on discussin’ his feelin’s.”

“Nothing new there.” Ratchet shook his helm. “Show me a mech on either side who wants to open up right now. It’s driving Smokey wild.” 

************  
When their last guests had left Sunstorm stood, looking at the little pile of gifts. Ratchet ran a servo across one of the gold wings, feeling Sunstorm’s disquiet.

“Something worrying you sweetspark?”

“But I didn’t do anything.” Sunstorm’s voice was soft, and confused. Ratchet got the impression that he was struggling to express something. “Why would they give me things when I’ve not done anything to deserve them?”

“You don’t need to do anything.” Ratchet assured him, “That isn’t the point, it’s not payment. You give Acid Storm and Icestorm gifts, don’t you? And me.”

“Yeah, but...you look after me, and you’re nice to me, and Acid Storm and Icestorm are my trine, and…” he trailed off uncertainly.

“Come and sit down and talk to me about it.” Ratchet offered, leading him to the couch. He looped a friendly arm around the young seeker’s waist and arranged them comfortably. “Now, what is wrong?”

“Um…”Sunstorm looked at his servos. “Nothing is free.” It sounded rote, like a lesson he had had repeated at lot. “There is always a price. Acid Storm taught me that.”

“But you give Acid Storm and Icestorm gifts.” Ratchet repeated patiently. 

“Yes…” It sounded like there was something else there. Ratchet decided to push a little harder.

“So why?”

“They...they got told to take me as a trine mate. Shockwave…” A tiny tremor went through his frame at the name. “Shockwave made them.” He looked up. “It wasn’t fair because they didn’t get to choose. And they look after me. I know I’m not the trine mate they wanted, but I can try and be.”

“Have you ever talked to them about this?” Ratchet asked, concerned. “From what Acid Storm said to me I think you are the trine mate they wanted. They adore you.” Sunstorm looked hopefully up at him. It hit Ratchet that Sunstorm was not used to being told he was wanted. He had never been treated as a sparkling, and had never known a creator’s care. His trine mates had worked hard to keep him alive during the war, but it hadn’t left them much time to bring up a sparkling.

“I want them to like me.” Sunstorm admitted. “I can feel them, in my spark. I don’t want to go back to being lonely.” Ratchet wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, but Sunstorm continued “And it feels nice to give them presents. They like it and it makes them happy.”

Ratchet was silent for a click, thinking about how to frame his next words. 

“That is a better reason to give someone a gift. Not because you feel you owe them, or you are trying to make them do something.” He gave the seeker a little smile. “Everyone gave you gifts because they wanted to make you happy. Making you happy made them happy too.” He saw understanding start to bloom and released Sunstorm. “Now which of your new data pads shall we read?”


	20. Sex-Ed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one made me giggle madly - people gave me funny looks!  
Animorpher commented: "The seekers know about interface but I still find it hilarious that one of them walks in on two Autobots "doing the deed" and in return the poor bots try giving some sex-ed 😂"
> 
> Oh dear...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still posting while I have stuff to post. I'm working on some non prompty fics right now so the prompts have been written more slowly than they were at the start of the pandemic.

Mirage and Hound should certainly NOT have been using the storeroom in the medbay for their...tryst.

It was not, regrettably, an entirely uncommon situation. Mirage was a known thrill-seeker, and in Ratchet’s words; “At least when the idiot is fragging someone in a semi public space he isn’t doing something that I’m going to have to fix later!”

Hoist’s normal response would be to shut the door and let them get on with it. Ratchet would do the same, but stand outside the door and threaten to do something unpleasant to them both when they came out.

First Aid’s response was best described as less robust. The youngest medic would get very flustered, and embarrassed, and run off and hide in the office. Ratchet suspected Mirage tried to schedule his time with whoever he could convince to play with him for First Aid’s duty shifts on purpose.

No-one had expected any of the young seekers to accidentally come across a couple “entertaining themselves” in an out of the way corner. Unfortunately First Aid had opened the door, and Skywarp had been standing right behind him, and there was really no mistaking what the two Autobots were doing.

First Aid made a noise of horror and mortification and whirled, dragging Skywarp with him, to the office. Skywarp just looked confused.

Wringing his servos First Aid was babbling apologies, and a flowery and technical explanation of interface, it’s mechanics, and how “mechs who care for each other very much, sometimes get urges…” words like “consent”, “respect” and “dignity” were used multiple times and First Aid kept pinging Ironhide’s comm with repeated, and increasingly desperate requests for the big Autobot’s assistance.

Skywarp’s confused expression had deepened, especially when First Aid’s field became increasingly flustered. The medic and the seeker both hailed Ironhide’s entrance with relief.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mirage and Hound were...in the storage room, and..and I opened the door, and… and Skywarp, um..and we saw. But I didn’t mean it to happen..and I’ve tried to explain , but...but I don’t think he understands, and I’m sorry!” The last word was spoken in a despairing wail. Ironhide looked between the two mechs. First Aid looked frankly traumatised, but Skywarp just looked worried, and rather bewildered.

Ironhide made a valiant effort to understand.

“So ya went inta th’ storage room an’ ‘Raj an’ Hound were already there?” First Aid nodded, servos still tangling together. “Ok, an’ they were wha’? Sharin’ sparks?” Another nod, and First Aid’s field bloomed with embarrassment. “An’ were they upset tha’ ya walked in on ‘em?”

“Um…” First Aid clearly didn’t know how to respond.

“‘Raj winked.” Skywarp announced quite calmly. First Aid made a squealing noise of distress.

“Ah’m goin’ ta be talkin’ ta him ‘bout tha’.” Ironhide promised. Skywarp looked worried, and Ironhide patted his servo. “He knows he shouldn’t be fraggin’ in th’ medbay. Ratchet’s told him before.” First Aid field felt ready to combust. “S’not th’ first time ya’ve caught ‘Raj doin’ tha’, what’s gotcha so worked up?”

“Skywarp! He...he… he shouldn’t see stuff like that!”

Ironhide looked at the seeker. Skywarp appeared to be handling what he’d just seen far more maturely than First Aid, but it never hurt to be sure.

“Ya ok?”

Skywarp shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, they’re jus’ fraggin’.”

“Ah think ‘Aid’s worried ya haven’t seen somethin’ like tha’ before, an’ ya might ‘ave questions.”

“No.” Skywarp shook his helm, still confused, “S’jus’ fraggin’. S’no’ like they’re hurtin’ each other.” He paused and cocked his helm to one side, considering. “Don’ think they were hurtin’ each other.” He amended.

Ironhide chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “Ah don’ think ‘Raj or Hound are inta tha’. Ya not upset?”

“No.”

“Ok, ya wanna come back wi’ me for some energon?” Skywarp nodded, and Ironhide gave First Aid, who seemed to have been shocked into immobility, a smile. “See, nothin’ ta worry ‘bout. Ya maybe want ta start lockin’ th’ storage room ‘f ya don’ wan’ this happenin’ again.”


	21. Watching TV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from HeartsGuardianSol "I was wondering how is Thundercracker doing? Has he opened up more from his shell yet?"
> 
> He is surprisingly reticent about telling me what he is doing, but he seems to be better than he was!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A relaxed evening in front of the television.

When Prowl returned to his quarters Thundercracker was already back. For once the blue seeker was sitting in the main room watching something on the console. He turned when Prowl entered, but didn’t get up.

“Good cycle?” Prowl asked mildly, heading for the energon dispenser.

“Yes. You?” Prowl didn’t allow his surprise to show. Thundercracker had never asked him how his cycle had been. Prowl knew the young mech had been reading voraciously since his language software had been upgraded, and it seemed he had been using the console more as well.

“It was quiet.” Prowl admitted. “I was trying to sort out trading permits”

“For the mineral deal?”

“Yes. And Ratchet commed me to remind me that we both have a check-up next cycle. He said he’d commed you too?”

“Yeah. He said not to be late.” Prowl chuckled, adding a scoop of iron to both cubes. That was a typical Ratchet comment.

He crossed to the table, handing Thundercracker one of the cubes. The seeker took it with a soft thanks. Another thing that he hadn’t done before. Prowl thought that the socialisation from working with other mechs was rubbing off on him.

“What are you watching?” Prowl had noticed that Thundercracker seemed to be very interested in romantic stories. He didn’t pretend to understand it, but Smokescreen though it was a positive sign that Thundercracker was taking an interest in interpersonal relationships. His fellow Praxian had slyly suggested that Prowl could probably learn a lot from the seeker’s new interest.

“‘S an Earth thing.” Thundercracker said with a little shrug. Prowl had initially been surprised at the younger mech’s interest in Earth media. He had noticed that Thundercracker shied away from depictions of the more intimate physical side of romance, but the humans expressed their affection in a surprisingly Cybertronian manner.

The humans on the screen wore clothes that Prowl didn’t initially recognise, and their speech patterns were stilted and overly formal. The lack of motorised transport suggested it was a historical depiction. Thundercracker was watching, entranced.

Prowl split his attention between the screen and his young charge. It was good to see Thundercracker so relaxed and engaged. He tried to remember some titles of popular romantic fiction that the seeker might enjoy. He knew First Aid was a romance fan, although the medic never admitted that fact.

Thundercracker was looking thoughtful towards the end of the film. The lead female character married the lead male character, and the secondary female character married the sensible, older male character rather than the unreliable younger one, despite spending half the film pining after him.

“Do you prefer films like that?” Prowl asked as the credits rolled.

“It’s interesting.” Thundercracker flicked a wing. “Humans don’t act like that now.” He hummed thoughtfully. “The human who wrote it died several human generations ago.”

“Did they write any others?” 

“Yes. They’re interesting.” He looked like he wanted to say something else so Prowl cocked his helm questioningly. Thundercracker looked down shyly. “I’d like to write like that.” It was almost a whisper.

“It’s a good ambition.” Prowl assured him. “I expect a lot of mechs would want to read some new stories. I know I would.” 

Thundercracker mumbled something bashfully, which sounded like an agreement and Prowl smiled.

“Let me know if you need more data pads.”


	22. Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The muse bit me again, I think I gave her too much sugar.
> 
> Chikyu must take partial credit/blame by supplying the prompt about seekers, art supplies and the unwisdom of putting them together!

“That has got to be the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard!”

“I have to admit, I’m calculating low odds that it will play out the way this mech expects it to.”

“He must be mad, and you are even madder if you are even contemplating this!”

Optimus held his servo’s up for silence and a hush fell over the little group of Autobots.

“I know how it sounds.” he assured them. “But this neutral, Relay, assured me that this type of therapy is very effective.”

“Ah gotta say Prahm, it might be effective f’ neutral younglin’s but th’ seekers are a whole ‘nother matter.” Ironhide shrugged. “Like Prowl said, Ah don’ think it’ll work th’ way he’s hopin’.”

Ratchet was still shaking his helm at the foolishness of a neutral suggesting ‘Art therapy’ as a way of helping the younger seekers adjust to life after the war. He had read up on the theory of course, and structured correctly the mech was probably correct that it could help. Unfortunately he had no idea of the different personalities involved, how they interacted, or an appreciation of what they had gone through.

Sticking them in a room together and telling them to create art had the potential to go badly wrong.

“He actually suggested that this was something all our younger mechs would benefit from.” Optimus revealed. “He was all set to organise a session for the seekers, Bumblebee, Bluestreak and the twins”

Sparks began flying from Red Alerts sensor suite and Prowl looked like his processor had been shunted into a loop. By contrast Ironhide was chuckling.

“I suggested that that might not be the best idea for the first time we try this.”

Thank Primus for that!  
***********  
Starscream’s lipplates were set in a grim line. Skywarp kept sneaking sideways glances at his trine leader. On Starscream’s other side Thundercracker’s expression was stoney. Sunstorm was darting glances at his fellow seekers, picking up the tension in their wings and fields, and Thrust and Ramjet had their arms folded across their cockpits with identical sneers. Dirge was hunched in his own seat, but that wasn’t unusual.

The mech in front of them was a neutral. All civilian grade armour, and stupid assumptions. He obviously didn’t believe that warriors, especially Decepticon warriors, could know anything about art. His patronising tone, and insistence on talking to them as though they were younglings made Skywarp bristle in irritation.

The neutral didn’t seem to realise how unimpressed his audience was. Starscream had caught Thrust’s optics and was signalling with his wings. Thrust wasn’t always inclined to obey Starscream, even when the white seeker had been the second in command of the Decepticons, but he was signalling back his willingness.

“Now if you’ll all come this way we will look at the art supplies I have found for you.”

Starscream softly chirped instructions to his fellow seekers. Skywarp muted his vocaliser on the hysterical giggles that wanted to erupt. This was going to be fun! He moved towards the paints that the neutral was kindly explaining to them.

Sunstorm was looking uneasy, but Thundercracker was standing next to the youngling reassuring him.  
************  
Ironhide wasn’t totally sure what he would find when he opened the door. There was a bit of noise from behind it, but nothing especially concerning. He steeled himself and punched in the unlock code.

Seven pairs of optics locked on him as he entered. Sunstorm looked very nervous, but the other six were belligerent, but he thought Skywarp was also looking guilty. He didn’t see Relay anywhere, but a whimper made him look up.

It wasn’t exactly unexpected. 

The mech was trussed upside down from an exposed beam. Ironhide wasn’t sure how the young seekers had managed that with the supplies they had been given, but it looked like careful application of modelling clay, glue and lots of coloured wires had been involved. The mech was still, which concerned Ironhide slightly, but a closer look suggested that his joint seams had been stuffed with more glue and clay. The ribbon stuffed into his mouth was stopping him talking and the bow it was tied into at the back of his helm was just adding more insult to injury. 

The mech looked...cross. And brightly coloured.

Ironhide didn’t laugh. He took image captures (of course), but he didn’t laugh. The young seekers had drifted together in a defensive huddle with Thrust and Starscream at the front and Sunstorm shielded behind Thundercracker’s broad wings.

“Ah’m guessin’ this maybe wasn’t a success?” Ironhide asked, mildly. He heard Skywarp make an amused little chirp, and the clicking and rustling as the seekers discussed the new development. “Ya want me ta get the ribbon?”

Relay made a positive “mmph” noise so Ironhide tugged the bow. It came away easily, which was slightly surprising, Ironhide had half expected one of the mechs to have added a dab of glue to the knot.

“These are not younglings!” Relay announced, vocaliser staticky.”They are psychopaths!” Ironhide didn’t look at the little group, but he could feel a distinct sense of smugness in someone’s field.

“Ah’m sure Prahm warned ya…” He managed.

“Do you know what they did?”

“Ah can guess.” Not a hint of a smile graced Ironhide’s features. “Ah’m curious who did the painting though.”

“They all did! And the gold one put the ribbon in my mouth, and the blue one suggested stuffing my seams with this gunk!”

There was a smothered giggle from one of the seekers. 

“The black and purple one decided to start painting patterns.” Relay continued, voice becoming shrill, “And the red and white one was laughing the whole time!”

The noises behind Ironhide suggested that Starscream was still laughing. He opted not to quiet him. The young seeker would probably not be laughing when the Prime arrived. 

The door opened again and Prowl came in. Ironhide looked round at him and his fellow officer cocked his helm, looking at the trussed mech.

“I see it didn’t quite go as expected.” Prowl flicked his doorwings, the only visible sign of his amusement. “Kup, Hoist and Prime are on their way. Would you like me to take Skywarp and Sunstorm back with Thundercracker?”

“Yeah, thanks Prowl.” The second in command separated the three seekers, ushering them out in silence. “Prahm should be able ta get ya down.” Ironhide assured Relay, giving the fuming neutral a pleasant smile.


	23. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How is it September? When did that happen?
> 
> Anyway, another prompt, Jess_Licks asked for the Twins protecting one of the seekers, despite their differences.
> 
> Protective twins are cute, in a fighty, socially awkward sort of way. :)

Sunstreaker growled when he heard Cliffjumper’s voice. The minibot was high on the list of his least favourite mechs ever. Possibly even number one, depending on how abusive the mech was being.

Sideswipe pinged their bond, questioning the sudden surge of negative emotion and he sent back the irritation/exasperation combination they reserved for mechs they disliked.

::You Ok?:: Sideswipe asked over the comm.

::Yes. Cliffjumper is hassling someone.::

::Typical.:: Sideswipe sent a swirl of emotions down the bond, wanting to bolster his twin. Cliffjumper tended to have a terrible effect on Sunstreaker. 

Sunstreaker rounded the corner, and growled again when he saw the gold seeker backed against the wall being menaced by the angry red mech. His optics were brightened to a washed-out topaz and were darting for an escape route. He tried to slide away, and gave a little squeal when Cliffjumper grabbed his wing and yanked.

Sunstreaker suddenly remembered that Ironhide had told him that the gold seeker...Sun-something...was very young, like sparkling young. He didn’t like seekers, but seeing the younger mech’s obvious fear touched something in his spark.

He marched up to the minibot and ripped him away from the seeker with a snarl. Cliffjumper turned on him, servos balled and swinging a punch which Sunstreaker caught easily.

Fragging ‘Con lover!” the minibot snarled. Sunstreaker knew the red mech would have loved to start a brawl, but this was a fairly public corridor. Red Alert would almost certainly take action by throwing them both in the brig. “I should have known you’d stick up for one of your ‘Con friends!”

“Frag off Cliffjumper!” Not especially original, but the minibot snorted anyway, stalking off.

The gold seeker was shaking, clearly upset. Sunstreaker couldn’t see any injury, but Cliffjumper could be sneaky.

“Did he hurt you?” The gold helm shook, but the seeker didn’t say anything. Sunstreaker tried to figure out what to do next, he suspected Ironhide would say he should walk the kid back to his own quarters, or at least offer. “Do you want me to walk you home?” He tried.

“Yes, please.” The gold optics were returning to a more normal shade. They had a strange look as well, Sunstreaker was uncomfortably aware that it looked like hero worship. Maybe he shouldn’t have stepped in.

“Come on then.” He muttered brusquely, turning on his heel and stalking away. He heard the tapping of the seeker’s thrusters behind him. It occurred to him, belatedly, that he should possibly introduce himself to the young mech. “I’m Sunstreaker.”

“Um, Sunstorm.” Sunstreaker gave a little grunt of acknowledgement and relapsed into silence. Sunstorm took that as his cue to stay quiet as well until they reached Ratchet’s quarters.

Sunstreaker pressed the call button. Sunstorm could probably have let him in, but these were Ratchet’s quarters. Sunstorm flung himself at the medic when the door opened. Ratchet took a step back, one arm coming around the seeker’s back to steady him. 

“Sunny? Sunstreaker? What’s wrong?” Sunstorm whimpered and buried his face in Ratchet’s neck as the medic waved Sunstreaker in.

“Cliffjumper was bothering him.” The yellow Autobot tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, but he didn’t manage it. Ratchet’s expression darkened slightly.

“I take it you rescued him?” Sunstreaker shrugged, but Sunstorm muttered something affirmative. “Thank you. That was very kind of you.” Ratchet detached the seeker gently and gave him a little push in the direction of the chairs. “Sunny, why don’t you get Sunstreaker some rust sticks?”


	24. Shyness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leann said she wanted to see more of Dirge and Inferno's relationship. I have endeavoured to oblige. :)
> 
> Dirge is really shy, on top of all his other issues. Inferno has a tough job!

Dirge was struggling to read through the data pad that Wheeljack had given him again. Inferno watched him carefully. The signs of frustration were subtle, but the Autobot had trained himself to spot them. When Dirge became frustrated, or frightened, or just bored he would retreat and turn into a miserable ball of wings and dark plating.

Inferno suspected that the young mech was frightened more often than he was frustrated.

The smaller wings on Dirge’s lower legs were twitching faintly, always a sign of stress, so Inferno tapped the servo holding the data pad. Dirge’s field was flat, but Inferno felt the faint whisper of fear thread through it. It saddened him.

”You ok?” Dirge’s expression was as blank as his field, but he nodded slowly. “You want me to read the pad to you?” That got an equally slow headshake. “Alright.”

Unfortunately that left Inferno scrabbling to find another distraction. 

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” It was a very long shot. Dirge seemed to have a limited number of vocal interactions he was willing to use each day. Most of them weren’t even words. It had taken twenty cycles for the kid to make a single sound in his presence.

Dirge shrugged one wing. Not exactly encouraging, but not a denial either. Inferno knew he would have to work hard with this conversation.

“Right.” He paused, thinking. “Do you want me to tell you how programming is supposed to work?” Dirge cocked his helm so Inferno continued. “So your first frame has basic programming installed. Things like mapping and GPS, learning software, all the stuff for your optics and hearing. Stuff like that. That make sense?”

Dirge actually made an affirmative sound which reassured Inferno that the young seeker had understood him.

“More programming is added in your second frame. And in your third, and by your final upgrade you have everything you need.” There was a little nod. “But you got upgraded from your first frame into your final one didn’t you?” There was silence. “Dirge?”

“Yeah.” A rare word, although Dirge’s voice was staticky with disuse.

“So you’ve got the programming for your first frame, and a few other bits.” He looked at Dirge expectantly, but the mech was staring at his servos. “Dirge?” he prompted again.

The young seeker didn’t look up. Inferno could see him huddling into himself again and tried to figure out why. He had been as engaged as he ever was up until Inferno had mentioned his upgrades. He wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or shyness, but something about talking about himself made Dirge uncomfortable.

Inferno put his servo on Dirge’s cheek, encouraging him to look up. His expression was still blank, but his optics were bright.

“Are you ok?” That got him another grunt, but it wasn’t really a positive sound. “We can stop talking about this if you like.” A small shrug and Inferno nodded patiently. “Fine. So you know you haven’t got all the programming that most mechs have?”

He was answered with a slow nod. Inferno gave him an encouraging smile.

“Some of that programming will be very useful for you. I think you’ll find it easier if you have a proper language pack installed.” Dirge’s wings twitched again. “You don’t have to, but I think you should think about it.” More twitches, which Inferno thought looked agitated. “I know Thundercracker has just got some new language software. I can ask Prowl to let us come over and you can talk to him. If you want of course.”

Dirge was still and impassive so Inferno gave his servo a quick pat.

“You have a think anyway.”

**************  
Inferno was becoming convinced that, as well as missing programming and lingering damage from being forced to use circuit boosters for a long period, Dirge suffered from crippling shyness.

The seeker was also unlikely to take any steps to overcome it. He seemed to prefer to curl into a ball and hide when placed in a social situation.

Fortunately Inferno was an immensely patient mech, willing to allow the seeker to move at his own pace. He would help the kid over hurdles of course, the first of which was his total disinclination to engage with anyone.

Dirge was actually interacting with him more. Not of his own accord, true, but he was responding more readily when asked questions and even using a wider range of words. He had managed to build the seeker up to “Yes”, “No”, “Like”, “Don’t like” and “Tired” and was working on “Please”, “Thank you” and “Energon”.

Inferno knew he would be happier when Dirge felt able to ask for energon when his tanks got low. A bit of politeness would certainly help the seeker too, especially when he could be encouraged to socialise a bit more.

Socialisation was the step they were working on this cycle. Inferno had learned that if Dirge had his trine mates with him he would hide behind them, allowing them to do the socialising for him while he retreated into a ball. 

Inferno had decided to invite some of the younger Autobots over to encourage Dirge to interact a bit more. He was starting with Bumblebee, who was the quietest of the young mechs currently on the base.

The door chimed, announcing the minibot’s arrival. Dirge’s wings quivered as Inferno rose to open the door. He patted Dirge’s wing as he passed, murmuring a quick “Stay there.”

“Hi ‘Ferno.” Bumblebee greeted him with a sunny smile. 

“Hey ‘Bee. You want to come in?” Inferno ushered the smaller mech through the door. “You’ve not met Dirge have you?”

“No.” He crossed to Dirge and extended his field. “Hi.”

“Dirge, this is Bumblebee.” Inferno watched the seeker carefully, aware that he had shrunk back into his seat slightly, and that his optics were darting for escape routes. “‘Bee thought you might like some company that isn’t me.” He smiled, but Dirge didn’t react.

“I’ve got a free cycle.” Bumblebee disclosed. “I’ve been on Spacebridge guard duty for the past orn.” He smiled at Dirge as well, giving an exaggerated optic roll. “It’s fragging dull. I bet you’re glad you don’t have to worry about that.” Dirge just looked at him, but his smile didn’t falter. “You’re lucky, I bet you’d be allowed to do exploration work. I really envy Skywarp. Jazz only lets me do one shift with the exploration team every three orns.”

Dirge didn’t answer, but Bumblebee kept smiling. He had spotted the little wing twitch when he had mentioned flying, he flicked his optics to Inferno, who gave a tiny nod.

“Do you want some energon ‘Bee? Dirge?” Inferno asked, hoping to get the seeker to say something. Bumblebee agreed, but Dirge only gave a tiny nod which was not what his caretaker intended. “Dirge?” He asked again, “Do you want some energon?” The seeker dropped his optics.

“Yes.” It was almost inaudible, but it was a response. Dirge kept staring at his servos, so Inferno lent across to give his shoulder a little shake.

“Don’t zone out Dirge. Why don’t you keep talking to ‘Bee while I get the energon?” He kept his servo in place until the seeker looked back up. “Good kid.”

“Have you been flying yet Dirge?” Bumblebee asked, Dirge stared down again, wings twitching in agitation. Bumblebee reached for his servo, field friendly, and allowed their digits to brush. Dirge stiffened, but didn’t pull away.   
************


	25. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skywarp pulls another prank. This time for Halloween.
> 
> As requested by Moviegirl16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Samhain everyone. It isn't quite what we are used to this year, but I hope everyone has a good Halloween.

“...And the humans have this thing, in the autumn, called Halloween where they all try to scare each other and play tricks and eat sweet stuff. Not like energon treats, they have loads and loads of different sorts and different flavours. Although one time Ratchet made some really sour jellies and gave them to all the mechs who were playing tricks on each other and they all hated them, except Mirage. He really likes sour things. Jazz says he’s weird and it is something to do with his bad upbringing. It’s really funny because Mirage gets huffy when Jazz says that.”

“Ya want ta finish ya energon Blue’?” Ironhide interrupted the stream of words. Skywarp was looking slightly confused, and Ironhide hoped against hope that the seeker hadn’t picked up the bit about ‘Halloween’ and ‘tricks’. The younger Autobots were all chattering about having a ‘Halloween’ party. Ironhide was hoping to avoid the inevitable prank war turning vindictive, or going on for too long. 

Skywarp’s expression had become blank as he processed what Bluestreak had said, but there was a speculative look dawning in his optics.

Fraggit! Ironhide realised that Skywarp HAD caught it. He vowed to keep an optic on the polish, and the supplement jars.

Bluestreak was chattering about the upcoming party again. Apparently Wheeljack had developed a type of foam that was mineral, not water based and they planned to spray it around at the party for...some reason Ironhide was unclear on. Jazz had apparently been enthusiastically rigging up tanks and nozzles.

************  
Skywarp had been behaving impeccably. It worried Ironhide. He had even gone so far as to unscrew the showerhead to check for unexpected ‘surprises’. There weren't any, but he had a distinct impression that the seeker was plotting.

There was nothing that really stuck out, but Ironhide knew plotting when it sat on the couch next to him. Skywarp had crafted his innocent look to a degree even Sideswipe had never managed, but Ironhide had experience.

Eventually he decided to just go with whatever the young menace had planned, and trust that the mech wouldn’t do anything too dangerous. 

Skywarp snuggled into his side, engine purring gently. Ironhide petted his wings, pleased by how calm and relaxed he was.

“Ya goin’ ta this party next cycle?” He asked. Skywarp gave the little chirr which Ironhide correctly translated as ‘yes’. “I think th’ twins are plannin’ on bringin’ some high grade. Ya gonna need me ta carry ya back here?” There was an offended flicker of Skywarp’s field, and Ironhide chuckled. “Ah’m teasin’ ya Sky.”

“Y’ comin’?”

“Me? No, ah’m a bit old f’ tha’ sorta party. Me, Kup an’ Ratch’ are gonna have a quiet few jours ta catch up.” There was a flash of something, possibly relief, in Skywarp’s field, but it was there and gone before Ironhide could really get a handle on it. “Is Thundercracker gonna go?”

“No.” Skywarp shook his helm. Ironhide wasn’t surprised, Thundercracker was a far less sociable mech. Skywarp twisted slightly and Ironhide obligingly moved his servo to another spot on the black wing.  
************  
Kup got the first comm. An excited crackle of static and a short burst of video footage.

“I don’t know how he managed that.” The green Autobot commented. Ratchet frowned.

“Who, and how many?”

“I’m gonna guess Skywarp.” Kup pinged the video to the other two Autobots. It was clearly an optical feed, Hot Rod’s by the ident, showing one of the foam nozzles spraying glitter. Ratchet grunted in irritation.

“That isn’t just glitter.” He pinged the medbay a warning. “First Aid will need to get some solvent ready. Little fragger added glue to the mix.”

“Looks like Sunstreaker, Blurr an’ Tracks all got hit.” Ironhide grinned. “They’re no’ gonna be happy! Nothin’ showin’ Sky was involved though.”

“No, but we all know how fond of glitter he is, and Sides’ would have made sure Sunny knew and was out the way.” Kup shook his helm. “Sorry ‘Hide, Roddy’s the only other one I would suspect, but he’s just not got the patience or smarts to do something like this.”

“Ah suspect he got th’ glitter from Thundercracker.” Ironhide agreed. “Ah know he had th’ glue. Hmmm...Ah suspect Smokey‘ll have ok’d th’ glitter. He thinks it’s ‘healthy’ tha’ Sky’s happy enough ta play pranks like this.”

Ratchet huffed in reluctant amusement. “Optimus just sent me the security footage from Red’.” He sent it across and waited as his friends watched. Ironhide lost the battle to keep a straight face first.

The footage was funny. The foam nozzles had been rigged to blow the bubbles across the space set up as a dancefloor. There were six of them. Five had functioned as expected, firing their payload across the dancers, the sixth had sprayed goblets of the glue and glitter mix, which had clung to plating and dried quickly.

Even funnier was the reaction of the vainer mechs. Sunstreaker and Tracks appeared to have had a tantrum, and Blurr had shot out of the room, obviously heading for the washracks. The rest of the room had been variously accusing each other, or laughing hysterically.

Interestingly Sideswipe had been a laugher rather than an accuser.

Skywarp had warped out, but the camera had caught his gleeful expression before he did. Ironhide sighed fondly.

“Yeah, no’ much doubt ‘bout who was responsible. Lil’ brat! Ah knew he was plannin’ somethin’.”

“Prime’s got Red’ in hand, and no-one’s bleeding out yet.” Ratchet commented. “I suggest we pretend nothing has happened until the wheels actually come off.”

“I agree.” Kup grunted. “I think we should just count ourselves lucky we weren’t targets.” His optics slid sideways to Ironhide. “This time at least.”

“Yeah.” Ironhide nodded. “But if either o’ya got an idea for a good punishment Ah’m open ta suggestions!”


	26. Parental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Lilac_Bitch commented "Ah shoot now I'm imagining the two of them watching a holovid or reading together and Sky falls asleep on Ironhide's shoulder. Hide says something like "love you, kid" and Sky mumbles "love you too, sire/creator". Hide is kinda stunned for a second then gives Sky a little kiss on the helm."
> 
> And Lo, it was adorable!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is too much angst (also stress and anxiety) in real life right now so here is some fluff to try and counteract it.

Ironhide had noticed that Skywarp had started using the sparkling cant that the young seekers spoke in around him more often. The translation programme was pinging him frequently with words, and even whole sentences. 

The syntax was certainly not standard Cybertronian, and the grammar was almost non-existent. There were also all the wing movements, which were proving very difficult to translate. Prowl had provided a copy of Praxian wing-cant to train the programme, but it hadn’t helped much.

Skywarp gave a little chirp, frowning at the data pad he was struggling through. Ironhide could tell, even without the translation, that the young mech was frustrated, but the programme helpfully supplied ‘difficult/too hard/annoying/dislike’.

“Y’ ok Sky?” The seeker looked up, frowning slightly.

“Yeah.”

Ironhide patted his shoulder and left him to it. Skywarp would probably talk more if he didn’t interrupt.  
************  
The translation programme provided a fairly steady stream of words as Ironhide listened to the soft conversation between Skywarp and Thundercracker. It was far more emotion and concept based than any of the Autobots had realised.

The conversation had started with Thundercracker asking Skywarp if he was alright with a chirp and wing-flick combination that the programme rendered as “Query: Status acceptable/unacceptable”

Skywarp had answered with a “happy/calm/no worries/pleased” noise, and made his own query which Thundercracker responded to with “Safe/uninjured/busy/creative”.

It was frustrating. Ironhide could tell what the seekers were saying, but the translation programme was still struggling with the non-standard syntax. Skywarp was describing something. Ironhide thought it was an idea for some art, but there were gaps, and the two younger mechs were speaking softly. The words coming through were mostly translating as colours and emotion.

Ironhide kept it running anyway, wanting to feed it as much data as possible. He kept his optics on his data pad, not wanting to show either seeker that he was interested in their conversation.  
************  
Skywarp snuggled into his side, field reflecting sleepy contentment as Ironhide petted his wing.

“Ya ready ta recharge kiddo?”

The negative noise the seeker made didn’t need a translation, but the programme came back with “No/warm/safe/caer”. Ironhide wasn’t sure about the last one. He vaguely remembered Ratchet mentioning something that Sunstorm had said which was similar.

::Hey Ratch’, you free for me to pick your processor?::

::You can certainly try, what do you need?::

::The translation programme just pinged me something weird, and I’m sure you mentioned something similar.::

::Interesting.:: Ironhide could picture Ratchet cocking his helm, looking curious.

::Caer. You figured out a translation for that yet?::

There was a pause. ::I don’t really have a proper translation.:: Ratchet warned, ::Sunny hasn’t elaborated, but he uses it a lot. I think it means caretaker.:: Ironhide stiffened in surprise, and Skywarp gave a little chirr of query.

“Sorry kiddo, jus’ Ratch’ surprisin’ me.” Skywarp snuggled in more comfortably, making another little noise. The programme didn’t have a translation for that one.

::Interesting.::

::Caretaker seems to be a basic translation, it’s more an affectionate term I think. Like Blue’ used to call you ‘tor when he was young.:: 

::I know Sky’s had caretakers in the past. He mentioned one he remembers from when he was a sparkling, and I think one of the older seekers who was in charge of training them was a surrogate caretaker to a lot of them.:: 

::It’s a good sign I think. Shows he trusts you.::

::Yeah. Thanks Ratch’.:: He closed the comm and looked down at his young charge. Skywarp shifted to look up at him, optics glowing a dull garnet. Impulsively he flooded his field with affection, and Skywarp responded with another sleepy chirp, his own field happy and fond. The programme helpfully translated; “Happy/fondness/care/affection/Caer” 

Ironhide paused, surprised again, before moving his servo to stroke Skywarp’s helm.

“Ah love ya too kiddo.” That got him another happy noise.


	27. Suger Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animorpher suggested one of the seekers having the Cybertronian version of a sugar rush.
> 
> Hopefully this fits the bill!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people have said they like to see how the Coneheads are doing. :)

Ramjet was practically vibrating, wings flicking quickly and thrusters grumbling as the turbines span. Hoist kept an optic on him, unsure why the young mech was so twitchy. Idly the medic took a quick passive scan, and frowned. Ramjet’s core temperature was elevated, and his spark was spinning far more wildly than was normal for the young seeker.

Hoist pondered. Ramjet’s symptoms, such as they were, were reminiscent of overcharge. Hoist knew the mech had not had any high grade since they had captured him. Admittedly he had been working with Grapple most of the cycle, but his fellow Autobot was very unlikely to have just given Ramjet a cube of high grade.

Ramjet was equally unlikely to have asked for high grade. It was hard enough to get the seeker to ask for regular energon. To the best of Hoist’s knowledge he had never so much as mentioned needing energon to anyone else.

::Grapple?:: He pinged the architect, hoping he had some answers. ::Any idea why Ramjet is bouncing off the walls?::

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Ramjet had progressed from pacing to attempting to climb the wall by jumping from corner to corner. Hoist kept an optic on him, but long experience told him it wasn’t time to intervene yet.

::I don’t know.:: Hoist pinged him a short video clip of Ramjet’s antics. ::Oh, you meant literally.:: Grapple was silent for a click. ::We did have some of those energon jellies, but they shouldn’t do that to him.::

::Thanks Grapple.:: Hoist cut the comm, and watched Ramjet for a moment. As a general practitioner before the war he had seen this sort of reaction, now he knew what he was looking at. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction in sparklings who had eaten treats made with concentrated energon. Ramjet was effectively overcharged.

It was an uncommon reaction for adults, but Ramjet had never had the treats before. Hoist made a note to restrict his intake, and caught the young mech’s attention.

“You want to come outside with me?” He asked. Ramjet would be able to work off his restless energy scrambling through the ruins. The seeker paused, wings twitching, pondering Hoist’s offer.

“Yeah.” He said at last, shifting restlessly from thruster to thruster.

“Come on then.” Hoist unlocked the door, gesturing the hyperactive seeker to follow him, and set off towards the main door.


	28. Invention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breenee pointed out that Wheeljack and Hotlink seemed to have warmed up to each other quite quickly, and wondered how that might have come about.
> 
> If you have read any Terry Pratchett I rather see Wheeljack as a member of the Guild of Alchemists, when the smoke has cleared he surfaces and says "I may have overdone the octo-cellulose".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They get on like a house on fire.
> 
> Literally, not allegorically.

There were a pair of peds sticking out from under a large piece of equipment. It was the third thing Hotlink noticed about the lab (the first being the large number of Autobots, and the second being the large number of scorch marks on the wall).

The peds were white with a flash of green. Hotlink assumed they were attached to a mech. The assumption was born out by the hissing of a micro-welder and the glow of the resultant sparks. 

“Uh-oh!”

The voice issuing from under the equipment sounded slightly worried. Hotlink realised that the three mechs in the lab with him had all moved quickly backwards to stand behind the fixed bench in the centre of the room.

Hotlink strongly suspected that they knew something he didn’t. He felt a sudden flash of kinship with the unseen mech. Have one or two inventions behave erratically and some mechs would get so twitchy.

“Hey, mechs, a servo here please.” One of the peds gave a little kick. “Quickly please.” 

Hotlink looked around. The three Autobots were looking wary. Looking back he bent and pulled at the kicking ped, allowing the Autobot to slide out from under the equipment.

“Thanks mech.” The green and white theme was continued with a red trim across the rest of the mech’s frame. He wore a mask and his helm was framed by a pair of bright vocal indicators. The Autobot extended his field in a polite brush of greeting. “Wheeljack.” He introduced himself. “And I guess you must be Hotlink?”

Hotlink was about to agree when the small red Autobot who had introduced himself as Perceptor yelped: “Wheeljack!”

“Frag!” Wheeljack dived for the equipment which seemed to be smoking alarmingly, prying at one of the panels. “I fried the coolant coil, I need to activate the emergency cooling circuit.” Distantly Hotlink realised that the other Autobots had retreated further, and Wheeljack was pulling open panels, muttering something about remembering to build an emergency circuit. 

The machine’s design was unfamiliar. Probably built by one of the Autobots, but some things were universal. Yanking open a panel Hotlink had his servo’s on the cooling circuit without conscious thought. There was a click and the whir of cooling fans, the haze of smoke around the machine began to dissipate.

“Hey, you found it.” Wheeljack was suddenly at his elbow. “I knew I’d built one in.” There was a resentful mutter from behind them, which Hotlink thought sounded like “Yeah, THIS time.” Wheeljack ignored it. “Thanks mech. How’d you know where to look?”

“It was...obvious.” Hotlink said, slightly confused. “That’s where I would have put it.”

“Oh.” Wheeljack seemed slightly nonplussed. “Yeah, I suppose it IS obvious now I think about it.” He brightened. “So what sort of stuff do you design?”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it. 
> 
> Chickyu (back in July) suggested the idea of a festival, and how that would go down with the Decepticons.
> 
> Starscream decided to offer his views.

The Neutrals had been the ones to insist on a celebration commemorating the end of the war. Optimus had been unconvinced. It was too much like triumphalism. Too much like gloating.

Too divisive.

The war had been over for almost a vorn. Rebuilding was going on at a frantic pace, but integration was still slow going. A celebration of the war that had ripped their planet apart seemed...counterproductive.

The peace was a wary one. The Decepticons had been defeated, true, but there were still mechs who believed in the justice of the Decepticon cause. Despite how Megatron had twisted it, Optimus had to admit that, yes, there had been justice in it. At the start at least.

All Optimus could do was try and figure out how to create a “celebration” that would be as inoffensive as possible.

He was still thinking about it when he left his office to pick Starscream up from the lab. The white seeker would almost certainly have some views about the idea, and, if Optimus knew anything he knew that Starscream would not be shy about expressing those views.

Probably at volume.

Starscream was surprisingly relaxed, and Optimus encouraged him to talk about the work they were doing all the way back to their quarters. He only understood about a third of what Starscream was talking about, but it seemed the young seeker had been told the polish being produced by the science team was inferior to the imported stuff that was being sourced from the Cybertronians limited number of trading partners.

Starscream had apparently taken exception to this, and he and Sunstorm were working on improving it. It was hardly the most vital work being done, but Optimus wanted to encourage the mech. It kept him interested and engaged, rather than plotting to escape.

He made all the right noises when Starscream paused, and the seeker was actually reasonably calm and happy when they settled for their energon. Optimus started jotting ideas down on a data pad when Starscream headed for the washracks, discarding some out of servo, but marking others for further consideration. Finally he put the data pad on the table and rubbed a servo over his optics. He would take a break, he decided, and watch something instead.

He selected something Cybertronian, sitting back and letting his processor drift. He gave Starscream a little smile when the seeker emerged from the wash racks, and the younger mech settled himself in another chair.

A displeased noise grabbed his attention after about twenty clicks of silent watching, and he turned to see Starscream looking at the discarded data pad, stylus in servo. Briefly he considered asking for the pad back, but Starscream was still relatively calm. Any attempt to take the pad off him would probably change that.

Optimus kept an optic on the seeker, but Starscream was concentrating on whatever he was writing and didn’t even glance up. There were periodic sounds, ranging from irritated to pleased, and white wings fluttered, but Starscream didn’t start shouting or demanding explanations.

The pad was finally put back on the table with a click, and Starscream stood without a word, stalking towards the berthroom.

“Are you going to recharge?” Optimus asked. Starscream made a vaguely affirmative grunt. Although he was desperate to see what Starscream had done to his data pad Optimus held off. He suspected he would need to be fresh to deal with it, and he really wanted to recharge.  
************

Optimus took the data pad with him when he dropped Starscream at the labs and headed to his office. He turned it on, not without trepidation, hoping that Starscream hadn’t decided to simply fill the pad with incomprehensible chemical formula, or even just the swear words of eighteen cultures. 

Neither possibility turned out to be the case, for which Optimus was immensely thankful. 

What was surprising was the sheer amount of information Starscream had written. Optimus’ respect for the mech’s processor power went up another notch. He had added commentary on every idea Optimus had jotted down. The Prime was pleased to note that the ideas he had dismissed as impractical or unworkable had not taken Starscream’s fancy.

He had even been personally offended by some, if the comments were anything to go by. Optimus hurriedly deleted an especially creative phrase.

One of the comments caught his optic. ‘You should try asking mechs!’ There was a line and an arrow linking to a random thought Optimus had jotted down about a celebration of the different cultures on Cybertron. He’d put some notes in around the ones he knew about, but had some big question marks around the city states which had almost totally become Decepticon.

That was actually a pretty helpful suggestion. Optimus started mentally listing mechs who might know something. A celebration of Cybertronian culture would be a far more fitting festival than a gloating celebration of the Autobots victory.  
************  
Starscream wasn’t ready to leave when he reached the lab, so Optimus perched himself on a spare stool to wait.

“Starscream said you want to speak to me.” Acid Storm’s voice made him jump slightly, lost as he was in thought.

“Um…” It was hardly the most original comeback. Optimus looked over at Starscream for help, but the white seeker was hunched over whatever he was working on, ignoring the Prime. He suddenly realised that Acid Storm would be able to help with information about Vosian culture. “Yes, I was wanting to know a little bit about life in Vos…” Acid Storm cocked his helm, expression blank, but Optimus thought he seemed pleased to be asked. 

He could see Starscream sneaking looks at them as they talked. Optimus suddenly realised that this was probably a technique he had developed to wrangle Megatron. The warlord would probably not have reacted as well to being backed into a corner. Optimus made a mental note to reward the seeker for setting up the conversation.

Sunstorm was listening to his trine mate with as much fascination as the Prime was feeling. When Acid Storm mentioned the Sky Dances of Vos Starscream did come closer, looking interested as well. Optimus turned some ideas over in his helm, all the seekers would probably welcome the chance to show off their flying skills.

“Did you Sky Dance?” Sunstorm asked optics wide. Acid Storm shook his helm.

“No, Icestorm did though. I remember watching him, he was brilliant. He was part of a team of blue and white mechs who were dancing as the sky. There were about fifty of them.” He smiled at his younger trine mate. “I’m sure he’d like to tell you about it.”

“Do you think he’d be willing to talk to me about it?” Optimus asked. Acid Storm’s expression turned wary. 

“Possibly.”

“Thank you.” Optimus inclined his helm politely to the older seeker. “I am grateful for the information you have given me.” He turned to Starscream, who took a step back, wings held high. “Are you finished? I need some energon.” Starscream nodded, his flinch, when Optimus took his arm, was poorly concealed. Acid Storm stiffened, and Optimus rumbled his engine soothingly. 

Starscream remained tense all the way back to their quarters. Optimus attempted some light small talk, but the young seeker retreated to his nest behind the couch when the door shut behind them. Optimus decided to wait him out, rather than trying to coax him.

It took a jour, but Starscream did emerge, drawn out by his tanks pinging him. Optimus opened his mask and gave him a smile, standing to draw a couple of cubes from the dispenser.

“Come and sit.” he said, gesturing to the couch. Starscream did, and even allowed the loose, one-armed, hug that Optimus gave him. “Thank you for asking Acid Storm to talk to me. It was helpful.”

Starscream snorted, but his field was relieved. “Well your ideas would have been too ground based.” He snarked. “At least this way we get some actually interesting things as well.”

“You don’t mind?” Optimus asked, wanting to check.

“It’s not like you are parading us through the streets in chains.” Starscream didn’t meet his optics. “It could be much worse.”

“Do you think the other Decepticons will be upset?”

“Frag knows.” Starscream shrugged, “Some won’t be happy, but as long as the gloating is kept to a minimum they won’t do anything.”

Optimus gave him another hug. “You’ve been really helpful. You want to have a flight next cycle? You and Icestorm should talk about Sky Dances too.” Starscream shrugged, dismissively, but Optimus could feel the way his field was calm and happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always looking for prompts. If there are any scenes you really want to see, let me know in the comments.


End file.
